Daughter of Flame
by Terra Carte
Summary: Being reborn without the 'reset' button being completely pushed is awkward enough. It's doubly awkward when your father turns out to be a future famous alchemist. Add to that I didn't even realize it at first thanks to faded memories and you've got quite the story. My father is Roy Mustang. My name is Dawn. And I'm fairly certain I didn't exist before. (Paternal!Roy, Future Royai)
1. In Which I Was Born

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

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Chapter 1: In Which I Was Born

.

"Mom? Mom?" I stirred, opening my eyes at the sound of the tired voice. I was tired, too. I'd been crying, I think. Something had happened and I'd been secure and warm and then it had all gone away and I'd cried so much because it was so uncomfortable and I hadn't wanted to go. Now I was warm and sleepy and I just wanted rest.

"Yes, sweetie?" answered another voice. I peered upwards, trying to make out the details of my surroundings. The first voice seemed to be coming from somewhere near me, loud and clear, but everything was blurred.

"Where is he? Where's Roy?" There was a long pause before the second voice answered.

"He's not coming." There was a moment and I wondered what was going on even as I blinked. My vision didn't clear. My tiredness didn't fade.

"You didn't tell him. Didn't do as I…" There was a bout of coughing and then the female voice wheezed. "Mom, he's got a right to her. He's got a right to Dawn."

"He has no right to you or her!" growled the clearly older woman. "He should have _never_ laid his hands on you. _Never_."

"I am as guilty as he is," muttered the first female. "Mama." The callout was far more childish. "Mama, you… You know I'm dying." There was the sound of an aggrieved sob. "You kept me from him, Mama. But I can give him what we made. I can give him Dawn. If he doesn't want her, then that's fine… but at least let her have her daddy when she can't have her mother."

What was going on? This was all so confusing and… The place I was laying shifted slightly and I saw the blurs move. I was… Was I being held? Why were my eyes so blurry? I knew I needed glasses but… My vision wasn't _that_ bad. This was barely sight. I was practically _blind_. My body didn't respond like I wanted it to and I tried to say something, to offer some kind of plea for help, only for it to come out as an infantile cry. That startled me to no end and I froze for a moment even as I felt myself being lifted up, head carefully cradled.

It occurred to me then that I was a baby. That I'd somehow become a baby. _'Oh, this is just degrading.'_

"He doesn't deserve her or you," the woman now holding me said seriously. The bitter one. The angry one.

"I still love him," my apparent mother whined. "I… I wish you hadn't hidden me away. I know he would have done the right thing for the both of us. I know…" She sighed.

"Sleep, Abby," my grandmother said simply. "I'll make sure Dawn is taken care of."

"Promise me, Mama," insisted 'Abby'. "Promise me you'll introduce her. Promise me that, if he wants her, you'll let him have her." There was an aching silence before the woman holding me agreed.

"I'll do that. I promise. Go to sleep, Abbigail. I promise I'll do as you ask." There was a long silence and soon the woman began crying. "Why did you make me do that?" she sobbed as she clung to me, nearly squeezing me tight. "Why are you making me give up the only piece of you I have left?!"

I was clutched closely to the woman and felt sadness roll through my tiny form. This woman had lost her daughter to something. Perhaps childbirth. That meant that I had inadvertently caused my mother's death. Still, my body tired and I whined instinctively. It earned me a bottle and I found myself cleaned up and changed not long after I had been burped.

"Oh, my Dawn Rose. My granddaughter." My new grandmother settled me in a bassinette. "She was wrong to tell me to give you up… but…" She sobbed and I stared up at her quietly though I couldn't make out much. "I can't deny her that dying wish." She left me there, cradled in the frilly bassinette.

And that left me to discern what was going on. _'Dawn Rose? That's my name, huh? So, clearly I'm a girl. And I'm just born. Talk about awkward. But… how do I have my memories?'_ That was a good question but one I couldn't readily answer. I drifted asleep, nestled securely in my crib. I didn't know why or how but I'd somehow managed to become a baby again. A baby with my memories intact no less.

It was a conundrum I would have to solve at a later time. For now, I needed to sleep.

.

Waking up did not solve things. In fact, things were steadily worse when I woke. I had messed my diaper and I was starving and there were these _instincts_ that I had that seemed to indicate that I was at least in part _really_ a baby because those instincts said to scream for attention.

Because instincts were stronger than I intended, guess what I did? I screamed. It came out as a wail and it immediately brought people out of the woodwork. It wasn't until the person spoke that I realized it was the grandmother. My mother was dead.

I'd killed her? I didn't know.

I found my butt and crotch exposed to the cool air and cried at the discomfort even as I tried to work my weak, almost rubbery limbs. I remembered from some biology-anatomy textbook that baby bones were still very 'green' upon birth, mostly cartilage and flexible and delicate, due to some evolutionary thing that made it possible for the mother to survive childbirth instead of dying from a too-large baby. It meant that, while formed, the bones were soft and harder to _break_.

It also meant harder to move because it was uncomfortable when I put pressure on them. And I did not like how I was grabbed by the feet, hauled up partially, and wiped down. I soon got a new diaper and felt a bit better as I was swaddled again. "You're hungry, aren't you?" my grandmother asked in a cooing tone. I couldn't help but whimper at the blurry shape above me.

Bottles, I soon learned, were wonderful things. And, being so young, it was all I could stomach to take in what seemed to be massive quantities but wasn't really all that much. I was fussed over and loved.

"Isn't she just precious, Barty?" I was confused.

"Yes, dear, but we need to take her to the boy." The world became frigid and my grandmother spoke coldly.

"He doesn't deserve her. He didn't even come to support her."

"Now you're being ridiculous. It was your idea to keep Abby out of the public eye. How was he supposed to know she was pregnant when you told him she was sick and denied him the right to see her?"

"Barty!"

"At least let's support our child's last request." I was transferred into new arms rather carefully as my grandmother cried. "She wanted us to let him see her. Sarah, we can't ignore that."

As they spoke, I listened intently. Not like I could do much else considering I was a helpless _infant_. I am pretty sure that I'd gotten off easy, the language barrier not being there at all, but I was a baby. A newborn at that. It took a lot of energy to stay awake, considering that my full existence in this body numbered more in hours than it did days. My grandfather's name was Barty. My grandmother's name was Sarah. My mother's name was 'Abby' but that was clearly a nickname. Abigail? Or the ten million variants thereof? Or another 'Abby'? Abilene? Abele? Ab… Okay. I'm making names up and Abilene was a town name, I think. I don't know. The likelihood of it being 'Abigail' was too high. Or one of the variants.

The argument was heated but the man's insistence that it was what their daughter wanted wore his wife down. From what I understood, my mother had been a teenager. A harsh blow for any parent to lose a child that young but there was the compound of 'she had gotten pregnant'. My mother had been sixteen-seventeen years old. My father was apparently a boy she had known from school and had fallen for her. Clearly, the feelings had been reciprocated and I was born.

Teenage pregnancy. Yay.

Not that I was ungrateful. I had no idea how I had died even if bits of my old life visited. Not enough to be coherent, of course, but I was aware I was supposed to be a fairly young adult (but not too young) and independent, financially and otherwise. Now, I was a baby.

No, I'm not getting past that point until I could at least feasibly wipe my own ass.

As I was in a perpetual state of boredom. Let me tell you, babies are boring. Especially when you were one. I couldn't hardly _see_. I pissed myself. I shit myself. I couldn't eat anything. I could only process milk. I was fairly certain I was drinking goat's milk because, apparently, it's better than cow milk and there was no _human_ milk to drink as the only one that had any had been my mother and there weren't any wet nurses. I slept a lot. I cried when I needed something. My entire existence was _limited_ to anything within arm's length. And even _that_ was limited. The only other thing that I had was sound and I couldn't stay awake long enough at times after being fed to even understand what the hell the adults were talking about.

Even then, it didn't take much to realize they were discussing funeral arrangements and making runs to get things done.

I was, of course, the ever-so-cute doorstop for about how useful I was.

.

The funeral was probably nice. There was crying and talking and the usual hullabaloo of funerals. Then there was me, the baby. I couldn't see. I could hear. I was in someone's arms, I think my grandmother's. It became public knowledge that my mother had died in childbirth. After the rites were concluded, people came to see me. Not that I could see them though I damn well tried. I got cooed over, touched, and even held for short periods. Family, friends, and even some of my mother's peers.

It was obvious when the teen that was my father came because there was a definite stiffness to my grandmother that communicated in waves. "Hello, young man," greeted my grandfather after a long moment. "I was wondering when you'd come over here."

"You said she was sick," an unfamiliar voice accused, somewhere between grief-stricken and numb. "That… But she wasn't. Why? Why didn't you tell anyone she was pregnant?"

"To be fair," my grandfather, whom I'd decided to call 'Grandpa' for simplicity's sake, said soothingly, "it was not really a normal situation. Abby was sick quite a bit. The doctor did say she needed bedrest. However, it was not my decision to keep you out."

"Oh, are you going to put all of this on _me_ now, Bartholomew?" accused my grandmother. I protested at the squeezing she was giving me and instantly her grip eased again. "I wasn't the one that-!"

"Sarah!" The woman stopped. "Dawn is his daughter." There was a shocked gasp. "She asked us to let him know and to let him have a chance to have her. You know this."

I was hanging in the balance and I didn't even know the faces of those around me. All I had were voices. I didn't even _know_. I realized I was scared. What if I was rejected? What if I was accepted? What if I was going to forever be passed back and forth? I didn't know.

"Let him hold her." It was a command and, with some reluctance, my grandmother turned me over. It took some guidance and an uncomfortable moment where my head wasn't supported but the one who was my father was holding me.

"She's so little."

"She's healthier than her mother was at the end. I think they had conflicting blood types," admitted Grandma. "Abby was type 'B'."

"And I'm type 'A'," grunted my father. "So, that means… Dawn?"

"Yes. Her name's Dawn Rose."

"That she's… either 'A' like me or 'AB'." I tried to look at him even if I knew it was useless. I couldn't _see_ and that was _frustrating_.

"If you like, Roy, we can talk this further over in a more comfortable setting. Like the house." The teenager, now identified as 'Roy', shifted.

"I… I can't come right now. I promised to help… my aunt." He gave a slight, embarrassed cough. "Can I come over tomorrow?"

"Don't you have school tomorrow?" questioned Grandma seriously.

"Not really. I tested out last year. I would have earlier but… I was… staying on for Abbigail…" By the end of this, he was mumbling shamefully. There was a long silence and I was again transferred from one set of arms to the next. The one that held me was Grandpa. I could smell it.

"We can see you tomorrow," agreed the man holding her. "Come along, dear. Let's go home for now."

"What time would be a good time?"

"Anytime you wish. Just not before nine, please."

.

The next day, or so I assumed as time was very tricky to track for me, I was back in my father's arms. I tried again to get a view of his face and I knew I was staring up at him. I didn't really see anything. He, however, could see me. "She seems… aware?"

"Yes, we've already noticed she tries very hard to stay awake. Perhaps she'll be a genius." Nope. I didn't think so but I don't think I minded the idea of it. Dad was touching at my nose and I wrinkled it as much as I could. It probably wasn't that visible and more of a face-scrunch than a nose wrinkle. "Thanks, Sarah." The sound of clattering china was heard but I was more concerned about the big finger poking me. As he'd been kind enough to let me get an arm out, I wrapped tiny fingers around it even as baby instincts insisted on sucking on the digit.

It did not provide milk but it seemed to help pacify some of the neediness the infant instincts had and I wasn't against that. It was weird, honestly. I could feel the nail and I could just about define every ridge of his fingerprint with my tongue. It was slightly rough but not super rough and just big enough that it was a comfortable fit.

I was sucking on my father's finger and he was letting me.

In reality, I don't know how long I resided in his arms. I wanted to see more, know more, but the chatter meant little when I would drift off in the conversation or required feeding or changing. Oh, and he got to learn how to change me. The gagging sounds were funny even if baby vocal cords weren't up to snuff about the giggling. He also learned how to feed me and how to burp me. He got the full trial course and did admirably well for a teen who had been roughly introduced to the fact he had a child. I slept in his arms, taking in his scent. He smelled of ozone though I didn't know why. I'd always loved thunderstorms and the clean smell they brought. It was comforting. It smelled like home and it made it that much harder to stay awake.

"I see her."

"I can see you in her, too."

"Could I please try? I… I really did love her."

"Just don't take her away from us. That's all we ask."

"Can't we talk about this first?"

"Sarah, he has the right. And if he stays near, you won't ever lose Dawn."

"I promise… and I promise that I'll come over and let you have her as much as you want. But it doesn't seem right I don't take responsibility for what happened. And…"

I don't know what was said after that. I was too asleep to know or care.

.

"She's so cute!" Hearing that high pitch startled me and I started crying before realizing what was going on. "Oh, I scared her." Not that I had any idea where I was. The smell of ozone invaded my senses as someone picked me up and I found myself cuddled into arms.

"It's alright, Dawn," a male voice said as a patting sensation came through my butt. I scrambled for context as I cried, panicked baby brain not helping. "Malory didn't mean to scare you." The patting helped a great deal and I calmed down to a bare whimper. It probably didn't help I'd woken hungry, either.

"You clearly don't have sense." The voice was rough and I guessed it was a man, probably roughened by drink and smoking. "What makes you think you can care for a baby, boy?"

Arms stiffened around me as I continued to whine. "Well, I don't know if I can or not," Dad said. "But I'm not going to pretend I don't have a child, Aunt Chris."

Holy hell, that was a _woman_. And my father's _aunt_.

Which begged the next question: Where were his parents? And what was Malory in relation to him? A sister? A cousin?

When it was obvious I wasn't going to quiet down, Dad checked my diaper, already wary of the contents. Again, thoughts of amusement but they paled in the face of the gnawing need for food. He then tried a bottle of the goat's milk that I'd become very used to already and I greedily took it.

"You don't really know the first thing about infants." That deep voice. The aunt.

"I got lessons from Mr. and Mrs. Edgecombe, Aunt," Dad told her.

"That won't make things easier on you, kid. I don't know much about babies but I know they take a lot of time." I didn't stop sucking at my bottle and I could sense the wariness about me. My eyes moved between dark and light blurs, trying to identify expressions even though I knew I couldn't.

"If I don't _try_ , Aunt Chris, I think I'll regret it." There was a snort and a rough sound like a chair being shoved back.

"Don't whine to me if you get stuck, stupid boy." There was a long silence after as footsteps faded into the background. My eyes tracked to the dark form above me and heard my Dad murmur.

"I think she might like you," he offered. I couldn't help but blink.

' _I think you might be stupid like she says,'_ I thought. Who would think that about someone who had said such mean things?

"I think you might be right, Roy," joked a voice. "She didn't say to get rid of her." Apparently I was the only one that thought the woman had an issue with my appearance. Someone touched at my head and I shifted to get away from it. Not that it did any good.

"She's precious," cooed someone. It might have even been the person touching me.

"I know, isn't she?"

"She's got her daddy's eyes!"

Dad did not seem to appreciate the commentary at _all_ but didn't run from it either. "Can I hold her, Roy?"

"Don't you have work to do, Sophie?" he asked, voice tight.

"You just brought home a _baby_ ," complained 'Sophie'. "A cute baby at that!"

"Do you or do you not remember the funeral I attended yesterday?" he returned.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Okay, this lady wasn't very bright and apparently another agreed with me.

"Sophie! I think he's saying that the girl that they buried is _the_ Abbigail Edgecombe? The one he fell for?"

"She was." Dad cradled me to his chest, strain audible in his tone. There was a long moment of silence.

"If you need help, Roy, let us know. Okay?"

"Okay… Thanks… Malory."

I sucked on my bottle, incapable of offering my own thoughts or stopping the dribble of milky spittle from going down my chin. But I held firm. I held fast. I knew that whatever might happen, there was a chance this person who was my father would do everything he could to keep me safe.

My infant instincts were coming to the same conclusion. He fed me; he held me; he took care of me. And, if he continued to do so, those baby instincts would trust him.

.

My new world meant that I was often back and forth between my grandparents and my father. I had a spot next to my father's bed where I slept. I knew this because when we were both supposed to be asleep, I could hear him just a short way away. With my grandparents, I had more of my own room though I didn't stay in it much yet.

I was growing. Soon, clothes were growing too tight and they'd be switched out for larger ones. Time passed in agonizing slowness but, with that very time, things improved. I started seeing colors and not just light-dark blurs. Then I started being able to focus a bit more. First up close and then further away. When I first saw my father's face, I couldn't help but dissect it.

He was young. I already knew this but when he was celebrating his sixteenth birthday, it was spent with things being given to him for me rather than personal items. It was his wish and people seemed to respect him more for that. He also looked Asian, with angular dark brown eyes and a rounded face. It wasn't a flat one and he was, on the whole, handsome. I guess. He didn't look ugly. Oh, he had a few usual teen crises on his face in the form of pimples but that was normal, right? He had dark brown, nearly black, hair that was pretty fine and lay fairly flat against his skull despite the thickness of it and a generally kind face. He liked to hold me, even when he was studying out of books. His aunt said he was spoiling me rotten. I didn't care because I _liked_ hearing his heartbeat and he would read to me.

I don't think science texts were exactly kosher bedtime stories but hearing the vibrations through his chest was nice. Smelling him was nice. Being held was nice.

That did not mean that I spent all my time lounging around. I had uncontrollable bouts of energetic movements. Not spasms but rather a need to wiggle and scoot. I was encouraged not only by Dad but also the women that looked nothing like him. I soon knew the faces of these women, including 'Aunt Chris' who looked like a cliché Madame if I had ever seen one, and the faces of my grandparents. Grandma had brown hair and brown eyes and Grandpa had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. They both looked Caucasian to me and Grandpa looked a little older than Grandma. Soon enough, I'd gotten to the point I could roll over onto my back though it took a little longer to get the strength to pull myself over on my belly. I fought for every bit of ability I had and the moment I was able to, I began to try and slide across the floor using my legs.

It didn't work out extremely well when I was with my dad but Grandma's floors were highly waxed. I could squiggle across them. Slowly. And cutely, apparently, because I got cooed over _a lot_ when I did it.

My favorite place to sleep was, of course, Dad's bed. If he wanted to knock me out, all he had to do was put me in his bed and I was _gone_. His mattress, pillows, and blankets were all inundated with his smell and that was increasingly comforting for me. It got to the point that he'd even regularly switch out a blanket at Grandma's in order to help them soothe me into sleep.

Because otherwise I'd be impossible to tire out until I'd outright exhausted myself.

Damn baby instincts.

Parts of my previous existence were beginning to fade. Here and now, I was a baby. That was my existence. I was finding it harder to recall my former parents' faces as well as the less-seen ones. I wasn't really regressing but I was adjusting. Each time I woke up as a baby, it further entrenched it in my mind I was not going to be who I used to be ever again.

My father proved himself in time to my grandparents. The tension that had been there seemed to ebb away even as he volunteered to help around their house. And he was clearly fascinated with me, playing and measuring me against what I was the previous week. Amusingly enough, he was even keeping a journal, annotating each new experience that I offered.

"I'm seriously beginning to think you're treating her like a science experiment," Grandpa noted as I perched in his arms. I was strong enough now to hold up my head and I was peering towards my father with interest.

I even got to see my dad blush. "Er, yes and no."

"Yes and no?"

"It's not that I'm treating her like she's just an experiment. I don't know anything about babies and… it helps me understand her better." I smiled, having finally developed enough coordination to do so a few weeks back. "Honestly, I can't imagine being without her anymore." He paused. "Well, I could, but… I don't think I've regretted it yet."

I turned to pat at Grandpa's face, the look of vague amusement mixed with annoyance funny to me. "The point where you don't think you can do it anymore, let us know." Dad looked a bit stricken but then nodded his head slowly.

"I won't ever shirk my responsibility. You don't have to worry about that."

"I didn't say that. I said if you can't _handle_ it, let us know. She's our granddaughter. And she's precious to us, too. We want her safe and happy." Dad hummed noncommittally but eventually nodded. I shifted and stretched an arm his direction, offering the best grunts I could offer. He willingly took me and I happily curled into his arms.

Okay, maybe I was spoiled but I could hardly be faulted for it.

"What are your plans for the future?" The question surprised me and I looked up at Dad. He seemed pensive. "I doubt you wish to remain as you are right now."

"No, I don't," agreed Dad. "I do want to become an alchemist and help people. The only problem with it is that I don't know how long it would take or what kind of money I can make to support myself and Dawn."

I decided it would be absolutely worth it to grab at his nose. Thus ensued a grabbing, reaching game that involved me grabbing and him trying to stop me. I grinned, way too toothless for anything but flashing gums, and he frowned. Grandpa watched this, naturally.

"Stop, Xiao-Hua," Dad complained. I paused, confused. The hell did he just call me? Shao-hoo-ha?

"What does that mean?" Thank goodness.

"It means Little Flower in Xingese." The hell was 'singeese'? Was that like 'Siamese'? "My mother called me her little king when…" He broke off, the meaning obvious. "Wang Shao… because my first name means 'king'. And I know a little Xingese and I know what Xiao-Hua means so… For her middle name."

"Little flower… I think it's fitting." I turned and saw Grandma there. She was smiling oddly, lost in thought. "It's longer than her actual name, but it is special." She looked at Grandpa. "A father should have nicknames for his children."

Grandpa smiled at the fact that I'd managed to wrangle Dad's nose with one hand, thumb helpfully up one nostril. It was gross. It was also humorous to see the absolute annoyance on Dad's face.

Babies were awesome when they weren't doorstops. They got away with _everything_.

Grandma saved him, by the way. He was too busy holding onto me as I pretty much gurgled at him in laughter. Not real laughter but gurgling. I'd not gotten to the whole laughter part of things just yet. She gently pried my fingers away from Dad's face and lightly popped me on the hand.

It startled the baby instincts but I squashed the urge to cry. Grandma wasn't supposed to hit, according to the instincts. I knew I'd eventually be punished but it didn't really stop me from looking at her reproachfully.

"No," she enunciated. I pouted. I could see she was amused but she repeated the word. "No. You don't grab people's noses."

' _Just wait until I'm an adult, Grandma. Then you'll be wishing I was just grabbing noses,'_ I thought with a grin.

Grandma looked at me for a long moment. And then she sighed. "Dawn's going to be trouble."

"How can you tell?"

"She's smart," advised the woman. "You can see it in her eyes. She knew what she was doing."

"You're probably just making it up," dismissed Grandpa. "That girl's not planning dastardly things yet. She's not even teething."

"Abby didn't look like that at that age," disagreed Grandma. "She probably got that from him!" She jabbed a finger at my father who seemed amused, disturbed, and a little disgruntled.

"Thank you?" he hedged.

"Don't thank me when she starts getting her feet under her… or when she decides boys are worth looking after. I know what your aunt does, Roy, and she's going to pick some of that up."

Now, I'd not thought of it that way. Dad's aunt was a Madame. I'd learned that much in my short life. The beautiful women were, in reality, a part of her upscale escort service with 'side benefits' depending on the price paid. They were essentially pricey whores. It was obvious that Dad had some tendencies drummed into him by the way he flirted with the girls even if he didn't really mean it. It was half-instinctive, flirting with women, and he enjoyed it because it was fun to make girls smile and flutter when he complimented them. Not that he'd done it too much in my presence outside the shop's backroom (I wasn't allowed in the front room with the bar even if there was no one there) and kitchen.

The only place we had to just the two of us was his room. All other places were forbidden or public.

"Oh, please," Dad said, begging suddenly. "Don't be like me. Don't make _me_ a grandpa before I hit thirty!" I blinked at him. He was being ridiculous, really. Even if I had been an adult previously and even if I joked silently about grabbing more 'interesting' things than noses in the future, I wasn't stupid. Disentangling the fingers that had somehow made their way into my mouth, I reached for his shirt, curled my fingers into the fabric, and cuddled with him.

"Hopefully, Roy, it won't happen. At least it'll be for some time yet."

"What we need to discuss is your possibilities for a future." The words surprised me. "You want to be an alchemist," Grandpa went on. "That takes time. If nothing else, getting a master will quicken your learning but the likelihood of finding a decent one nearby to permit you to care for Dawn at the same time."

I looked up to see the depression in Dad's face. "I know."

"But I do know someone that's a fairly good alchemist." The offer clearly surprised my father. "He's someone I knew growing up and is a little older than I am. He's talented, too, but I don't know if he'll take an apprentice."

"Who is he?"

"A man by the name of Berthold Hawkeye," Grandpa told him. "He's out east of here in New Optain. On the outskirts. However, you need to at least petition him before running off."

Dad was looking at me before seeming to come to a decision.

"I can wait a while. Start next year sometime petitioning him, I guess. Or the year after. And I can't leave her at my aunt's while I'm gone. So, I'd have to rely on the both of you to… to help me. Not that I care to but, yes, it would be better if Dawn is here instead of elsewhere."

"If that's your decision, so be it."

.

When I finally achieved a half-year of life (people kept saying six months like it would make the amount of life I lived all the bigger sounding), I was again making strides of the metaphorical sense. I could sit up on my own. I could eat semi-solid foods. I could even somewhat serve myself. Granted, my motor skills were absolutely awful but I did occasionally get food in my mouth without it winding up on my nose first. I was also beginning to cut teeth.

Let me tell you, teething is horrible. Imagine this: sharp pieces of bone are deliberately sawing through soft gum full of tiny nerves. It left me sore, cranky, and whiney. And I couldn't do them all at once because, surprise! You don't cut all your teeth in one go. No, they had to come in _one at a time_ over the course of months. I got a bottom-front one first and then a cattycorner one on the top. I also found out that my daddy liked for me to 'cheese'.

There were a number of pictures taken at various stages from infancy up to my current mark.

As my grandmother was a housewife, I often wound up in her care during the daytime. Dad and Grandpa both worked and Dad mostly did two jobs. One was for the shop he lived at and the other was for a general store a little way's away. He didn't make a lot of pay but there was enough for the 'good things', extraneous things he got me. There was this one stuffed animal - a horse - which I absolutely adored. My baby instincts _hated_ it if it wasn't there and I had a hard time sleeping if it wasn't there.

That being said, at six months I began learning more of the outside world. I had noticed that the dress of the locals, my family included, were a bit old-fashioned. Dad himself wore slacks and button downs like I would have worn blue jeans and tee shirts. Women normally seemed to wear skirts. There were no 'casual clothes' though there were clear modern themes in some clothing styles such as complex(though often vintage) prints on fabrics and short skirts for women and even cocktail dresses that would have looked very ordinary at a high-end club on some of Aunt Chris's girls. Then there were those that weren't dressed in everyday wear. The blue uniforms.

It didn't take much to realize these people were the police but it seemed to go further than that because there were two types of uniforms. There were the black ones and then there were the blue ones. The black ones seemed to be the real police force but the blue ones were more numerous. So, I likened it to the military police and the army. As I didn't have a voice, it was hard for me to ask for verification.

Not only that, but there were shops that were odd. I'd heard the term 'alchemy' thrown about, mostly by my dad as he had those fun science texts he liked to bore me to sleep with, but that didn't seem to encompass the shops that advertised 'alchemy repairs'. The few times I'd been helpfully carted into one, it was a simple room with a diagram on a table and maybe a backroom. Grandma had taken me with her to get her pot mended and it was astonishing to see the man thoroughly inspect it before taking the metal pot and doing something that caused lighting to flare impressively. I admit I watched with wide eyes. I will also admit that it floored me to see the hole Grandma had been combatting had been miraculously repaired with no sign of welds or _anything_ in sight.

I really wanted to know how he did that. I also wanted to know if Dad could do that, too.

I found out that he probably could have that evening. "I don't see why you didn't let me do it for you, Sarah," he complained, having long ago been told to 'just call me Sarah' by my grandma. "I would have saved you the money and done just as good a job."

"You weren't available and I needed that pot," disagreed Grandma. I watched my father avidly, wondering if he would do alchemy, too.

"You could have _waited_ for me to get off! I know you could have! You could have asked me to do it yesterday or the day before! I know that hole didn't appear overnight!"

She snorted, eyes tracking to me as I continued watching my father. "I'm aware but sometimes it's good to have a guild-certified alchemist to look things over."

Wait, what? I looked at her then, wishing I had the vocabulary to demand an explanation. I decided then my first word would be 'why'. I _needed_ to know more than this 'dribble along' shit they were doing!

"Guild-certified is merely fancy words for 'let's charge you more'," Dad protested. "Anyone can fix a pot."

"Roy, you were busy and I didn't know I'd need it until today. Let's leave it at that." Dad huffed as I turned back to him. "By the way, someone wants your attention." Not really but I wanted to see him use the alchemy. I'd tolerate being fawned over if he did that. I wanted to see more. "In fact, you might have a budding alchemist on your hands. She was very intent on watching everything the alchemist did today." Dad looked at me curiously.

"Are you interested in alchemy?" he asked. I blinked before nodding. He shifted at my response. "Do you want to see alchemy?" he asked, curious. I nodded again. Amazement flickered over his face.

"I told you she was smart," Grandma pointed out. "Now, you can save the alchemy for after dinner. Get out the plates and silverware."

"Er, yes… Yes, ma'am." He hurriedly did as told, setting out the utensils for dinner. I got to sit by and watch, babies not expected to do more than observe the world being a large part of the reasoning. Also, without a huge amount of help, I was way too short to do _anything_ without help. And wobbly. Way too wobbly on my baby legs. Often, it felt like I was just caught in a whirlpool of movement with no ability to direct it. And, really, I couldn't. I couldn't do more than burble and laugh and cry vocally. I could barely toddle. My eye-hand coordination was so laughable that I made more of a mess than progress in whatever I did, especially eating.

I really desired to be a year old. Two would be better. Grandpa came in and I found myself scooped into his arms from my perch in the high chair and I squealed with surprise and delight as he loved on me. Wrapping chubby baby arms around his neck as best as I could, I curled into his hold.

"Hey, Dawnie," he greeted, pressing a big kiss to my cheek and rubbing his stubbly chin against my skin as he did so. "You're growing prettier every day, I swear."

' _Thank you,'_ I told him mentally even as I gave an audible giggle. Dad didn't get much in the way of facial hair yet and some of my fondest childhood memories from my other life had to do with facial hair. I know that sounds strange but my former grandfather's chin used to be just like this grandpa's. Scratchy and comforting. It was _Grandpa_. That's all there was to it. The smells I usually associated with the dim memory were all but gone and human minds were funny things. I knew what my grandpa smelled like right now so it subverted old memories. I knew the old smell was different but that was pretty much it. I honestly couldn't remember what Old Spice even smelled like anymore. But I had an equivalent. Grandpa's favorite cologne. I didn't know the name yet. I didn't mind.

As I came out of my thoughts, I found myself lowered back into my chair. I complained, not liking being let go when I was previously wrapped up in such wonderful memories, but no one really paid attention. Conversation revolved around the happenings of the day. Grandpa complained about his boss and Dad split his time between helping Grandma feed me and feeding himself. I tried to help but the pureed food was not cooperative and found myself getting my eye. Whining as it was wiped away under laughs and teases, I tried again. My choice of weapon? A spoon. Because, y'know, I didn't have a lot of teeth to chew anything harder. And I had liver and green beans, which was yuck. Okay, green beans were alright. Liver was nasty. And I was avoiding the liver.

Grandma did not approve and took my spoon to make me eat the cooked and pureed organ. I made a horrible face, complete with full-body shudder, and spat it back out in a brown dribble.

"Dear, I don't think she likes liver," noted Grandpa.

"You think?" drawled Grandma. "That _face_." Dad started laughing.

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Thank you for giving this story a chance. **Please review.**


	2. In Which Realizations Happen

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Reviews: Thank you to those who reviewed. I'll admit that I've gone through the previous chapter to try and fix some small errors (POV and grammatical) because, when I started this story, it had been in a third person POV and I tend to type fast enough to jumble my words (approx. 60 WPM). If you think you spotted a mistake, let me know where and I'll try to fix it.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 2: In Which Realizations Happen

.

I was placed on the floor with my horse toy. Contemplating it, I wondered at the stitching and whatnot. It was after dinner and we were still at Grandma and Grandpa's house. I sensed Dad preferred I was here over at the bordello but moment would come when we had to go home to bed. I looked up at the sound of something scraping and saw Dad was drawing with chalk on the floor. "You better wash that when you're done, young man," Grandma said seriously. I saw instantly that he had artistic talent. I shifted, dropping my horse to the side, and crawled forward to look more. Dad caught the movement and instantly looked a bit panicked.

"No, Xiao-Hua," he cautioned, throwing out a hand to stop me. "You'll smudge it." I looked at him and then pointed at the circle he'd drawn. "Yeah, that. Don't touch it." Seriously? That was not what I was trying to ask. I pointed again, looking to the circle. It was bigger than I was. I could have laid in it and would have barely stretched outside it.

"This is worthy of a picture," Grandpa chuckled, having been ousted from the kitchen like Dad and I had been. "The alchemist and his daughter." Dad looked up and thus missed it when I poked my finger on the circle. I picked my finger up and saw that chalk residue had collected on it. "She's smudging your circle."

"Gah!" squawked my father. "Dawn!" He shooed me back but the damage was already done. I'd not really _damaged_ anything but it was obvious I had made a fingerprint in the chalk line. "Do you want me to show you alchemy or not?"

I stared at him with a pout as he fussed over the circle. And then I looked at my finger. The chalk was still there and before I even really contemplated the decision, I wondered what it'd taste like.

The finger went into my mouth and I gagged. Unsurprisingly, chalk tasted _chalky_ and a little dusty and gritty. I had no idea what possessed me.

No wait, I do. I was the idiot in a previous life that had been curious about how hot a crucible that had been on a Bunsen burner got and had touched it… when I was old enough to _know better_. My reward had been a blister, by the way. An instant blister that had popped up almost immediately despite the very short touch I'd given the hot crucible. Also, I've chewed pens to the breaking point in my mouth. Ink was gross. I have done other questionable things in my previous life so this curiosity to know what _chalk_ tasted like didn't surprise me. I'd previously wondered it and my baby body decided it was a spectacular idea.

I suddenly felt pity for my father. My curiosity was probably bigger than before and I didn't know if it would only get worse in time. I was going to be trouble. My grandparents were right.

Dad checked me when he heard me gagging and frowned. "Did you just try to choke yourself with your fingers?" I rolled my eyes. He stared at me. "Did you just roll your _eyes_?!"

' _Yes, Dad. I did,'_ I mentally mocked.

"She just rolled her eyes at me!" Dad complained to Grandpa.

"Believe me, it doesn't stop," advised Grandpa. I giggled. "And there will be a point where you're going to want to slap her eyes off her face. I don't recommend doing it, though. It'd be awkward to explain to the doctors." I was laughing now and both men looked at my delighted baby form with amusement.

"I'm going to lose, aren't I?" Dad asked dryly.

"Yes, Roy, you are. But you'll love her anyway." There was a vague bitterness to the words. No doubt Grandpa was thinking of my mother. Dad seemed to sense this, too, and instead of returning to his circle he pounced on me. Not literally but he attacked my belly with fingers and elicited giggles out of me that turned into full-out laughter. I couldn't help it. I laughed. I laughed hard. I filled the room and probably a good bit of the house with my squealing laughter. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard and I kicked to try and get air but I laughed as my daddy tickled me and couldn't help but smile in the moments he gave me reprieve, watching his hands and his big smile as I anticipated another attack.

He tickled and tickled and tickled until finally he scooped me up and hugged me tight to him. I burrowed into his grip with giggles still escaping my mouth and took in his scent. Ozone. I pulled back and patted at his face.

This person. I loved him. I loved him very much. I loved how he pressed a kiss onto my palm as I pushed it to his lips and I loved how he smiled as I leaned into hug him again.

The snap of a camera was barely heard over my thoughts though the flash was less easy to ignore. I looked up and Grandma was there. She had a funny, soft look on her face.

"You know what, Roy? I'm glad we listened to Abby." He paused, also looking at her. "You're a good daddy to that little girl." I looked back at my dad and he looked at me. His eyes had clearly misted with tears, sorrow at the second reminder of his lost girlfriend. I smoothed my fingers on his lips and he kissed them again.

' _I love you, too,'_ I thought, burbling at him. _'But you'll get better. I promise. There's someone out there for you. I promise.'_

He couldn't hear me but he did cuddle me closer as if he did, rubbing a soothing hand on my back. Then he settled me down on the floor. "Alright. I wanted to show you alchemy, Xiao-Hua. Don't touch the chalk, okay?" I pouted. "No."

Even though he hadn't responded to Grandma's praise, it seemed his reaction had been enough of an answer to her and she scooped me up to sit in her chair. I was perched on a knee and she told me to be a good girl in a mutter. I was a good girl. Mostly.

But I did watch my father finish his circle. It wasn't that unusual, really. Just a circle (an amazingly perfect geometric one at that) with a square inside it. Or was it a diamond? I didn't know. It looked like a square, though. I watched as he took some paper and put it in the middle of the diagram.

"Now, watch, Xiao-Hua," he told me, grinning up at where I was. He touched the edge of the circle and it clicked as to why he smelled of lightning. It was because he played with it every time he did alchemy. The blue arcing energy sizzled and snapped and created afterimages in my eyes. When it died down, I couldn't help but gasp. Where the paper had been was now what seemed to be a delicate origami crane much larger than any I'd ever seen before. He picked it up and brought it over to me, placing the paper creature into my hand.

"Very pretty," complimented Grandma. "Your detail work is good."

"I practice when I have the time between shifts," he murmured as I turned it over with all the carefulness I could. The crane seemed to not be so much folded paper but paper formed to look like it _had_ been folded. I looked up at him. "I hadn't realized she'd take after me in this so quickly."

As far as I was concerned, in this my father was a wizard. I tried to keep the crane but it was gently taken from me as I'd not wanted to crush it and I complained when I realized I had been denied. "She's a little firecracker, isn't she?" chuckled Grandpa. "But it's getting late, son. It's probably getting close to someone's bedtime."

Dad paused and then looked at the man in surprise before nodding. "Yes, you're right."

.

"He called me 'son'." We had gotten back home and I was cuddled into Dad's twin bed. "He called me 'son'." I didn't understand what he was going on about, though, and the smell of ozone and cotton surrounding me made it hard to stay aware. He came to me and picked me up, cuddling me into his arms with a blanket around me. His face was delighted and oddly sad. "It's been _years_ , Xiao-Hua," he whispered. "And he's a little like how my dad was."

I understood then. While I had never learned what happened to my father's parents, it was obvious they were gone because he had made mention of it. I touched his face, feeling empathetic to him. Grandpa probably didn't realize how much of an impact that affection had on my dad. I hadn't realized it, either.

But I was having a hard time staying awake and Dad smiled down on me. "Go to sleep, my Dawn," he whispered, clearly seeing my sleepiness. "I'll be here when you wake up." I knew he would and I did so. I also knew that when I woke, it would be in the crib that had been stuck in a corner not far from my father's bed.

.

My first winter was met with total and complete hatred. I also expressed this to my father who decided it would be a great idea to let me experience snow. The scowls were at best ugly. The grumbles were angry. And the climb back towards safety was met with some confusion and even a bit of laughter. "I think someone hates snow," noted Grandpa, who was the one that had offered the idea of going to the park.

I was eight months old now and nearing my first year of life. I was also out in the middle of a sunny winter morning bundled up like a strange bun and angry I was anywhere _near_ this cold, wet, horrible stuff.

By the way, I remember previously growing up in a place where snow was rare and I did not like it at all. Once, I had liked snow. Then I saw how stupid people were when it came down on those very rare occasions.

"No kidding," Dad murmured, eyes wide as he watched me. His gaze was obstructed as a snowball impacted the side of his head. "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself, Roy!" jeered a young man with some others. "Yeesh, haven't seen you in ages." Dad scowled, shaking the snow out of his hair and clothes. I stared in surprise.

"I've been busy."

"Doing what? I know you tested out. Are you going to a university now?" Dad stiffened slightly but shook his head. "Anyway, it's been ages."

"Yeah! So, you busy or something?" asked a young woman. "We could catch up." Her gaze tracked to the two adults and me, the wonder in the big, puffy baby coat.

"I can't," admitted Dad, hunching his shoulders. It occurred to me instantly that he must have dropped a good deal of his old life when I'd come into the picture. These might have even been his friends. Grandma scooped me up away from the horrible snow.

"Why not?" asked another guy that hadn't spoken up yet.

Dad hadn't told them, had he? I twisted and looked up at Grandma in concern. She looked at me and cuddled me close. "If you want to go on, Roy, we don't mind," she told Dad. "We can take care of Dawn." His gaze fell to me and I knew I looked at him confused.

"Actually, I think we're going to insist on it," Grandpa inserted before Dad could protest. "Just come get her this evening, alright?"

"Alright." It wasn't said very enthusiastically. No doubt he saw me as someone he _needed_ to care for. And I watched as Grandma carried me back to her house, looking after my father and the friends that were now crowding around him, eager to know about the exchange. I hurt for him because I'd changed everything in his life… and he'd gone along with it. He'd been going along with it for eight months now. Ever since the moment he'd known about me. He'd put away all his old things and hadn't seemed to regret it.

Now, I saw how much he'd given up. It hadn't even registered and I felt guilty.

It was obvious that I was upset when we got back to Grandma and Grandpa's. Not even bundling me in the blanket Dad had gotten his scent on helped. "It's alright, Dawnie," soothed Grandma, trying to help. I looked up at her. "Your daddy will be back soon enough. He just had to talk to his friends." But that wasn't what was wrong. "He's not going to leave you. Promise." She soothed at my hair and I looked down at the toy I clutched hard now. The horse. I was frustrated and, incapable of proclaiming this or saying _anything_ , I threw it even if the toy didn't deserve it with a screech of angry self-recrimination. "Dawn!" scolded Grandma, surprised by my bad behavior. "That's not nice!"

No, it wasn't. And it wasn't supposed to be. I looked at her with tears in my eyes. I'd robbed my dad of so much. He could have easily been just fine living by himself, still doing whatever he wanted. But he'd decided to not let me go and I'd made him leave his friends. I started crying and realized I was throwing a temper tantrum but it only made me cry more. I tried to express my upset and my hurt and all it came out as was a blubbering crying. And I knew that they'd not understand the _why_ of why I was crying. It would be me missing him. It would be something ridiculous. It wouldn't be the truth and my dad would be guilty for leaving me.

I clung to my grandmother as she scooped me up, hating how much of a mess I was. Even as she murmured comforts, I tried to calm myself down.

Did I mention I hated being a baby? Because of this. Exactly because of times like this.

I exhausted myself before Dad came back and fell asleep. When I stirred awake groggily, it was to him cradling me and Grandma whispering to him. "She just cried herself out. I don't know why but I guess… she didn't like being separated." Which I was every day he had to work so that excuse didn't even make very much sense. I saw him see I was awake and he smiled sadly.

"Sorry, Xiao-Hua," he murmured. "I'm sorry." I was getting big for his arms, honestly, and it took both to hold me up if I wasn't perched on a hip. I reached up and touched at his mouth, just wanting him to stop apologizing, and he kissed my fingers. I wished I could tell him the truth but by the time I could this would be forgotten. Instead, I curled into his grip and let myself drift off again, bundled as I was in his arms and in blanket.

"I should take her home."

"Are you sure? You could stay the night." I knew some tears leaked free from my eyes but I didn't stop them. I was ashamed of myself and I couldn't even try to make it better.

.

The subject of friends didn't really pop up again. I assume the adults talked about it outside my hearing, either when I was playing or when I was asleep. Still, Dad did take time to go out on occasion without me and it wasn't even for work. I knew this because he said he had days off and he didn't stay away as long as usual during his working days. Not that he slacked with his care for me but he did spend more time doing other things. Then, one day in the dead of winter, he took me with him.

We went to a shopping area and some little café that had thirty times more charm than a Starbucks ever could.

It appalled me that I remembered _Starbucks_.

Anyway, we went into the shop and settled at a larger table, a woman barista thingy (I think I got her terming right) helpfully providing a highchair for me. Dad flashed her a smile and offered a thank you, which caused her to blush, as he peeled me out of my big coat and plopped me comfortably into the chair. I was still wearing essentially a sweater dress over a footed onesie made of flannel so I wasn't cold. I even had shoes and everything, so as my head was bared my gaze went around the shop. "She's cute. Is she your little sister?"

My eyes snapped to the barista. "Not exactly," Dad said with a frown. She gave him a vaguely blank look. "She's my daughter."

"Oh… Sorry." Her eyes did the patented glance-for-a-ring move but saw none. Not that Dad 'noticed'. He messed with my hair to get it to lie properly now that it was free of its cap. Like him, I had a lot of fine hair. I had a lot of hair but it was fine and didn't hold curl very well. It was also lighter than Dad's, being dark brown rather than reddish-black, and I knew my eyes were dark, too. Last I'd checked, they were a gray-brown. Most of my features weren't pure Asian… _Xingese_ , but what little was there was obvious.

There were a few minutes of just us two before the people from that other day came in, first the girl and then the other two. I speculatively eyed them as Dad perked up. The girl was dark skinned and had hair done into a number of tight plaits coiled up into a bun atop her head. The gold earrings at her ears showed against the chocolate tones of her skin and her teeth were very white, too, as she grinned.

"Hey!" she immediately greeted, followed by the two males. One was a stereotypical German as far as I was concerned. High cheekbones, blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. The third seemed somewhere between the other two, not exactly 'white' and not exactly anything else. He was probably of mixed blood and his skin was surprisingly dark for how platinum his hair was and it didn't look like a tan. His eyes were a strange color that were kind of brownish-red.

It was also obvious I was equally being scrutinized and Dad grinned as he put a hand on my back. "This is Dawn," he introduced. He even sounded a little bit prideful. I stared at the trio even as the lady held out her hand to me, more fingers than hand. No, wait. That came out wrong. She more or less offered me her fingers more than her hand.

"Hi, Dawn," she cooed. "I'm Monica." I eyed the offered fingers and took one in my hand. "She's precious," she complimented my Dad. He smirked.

"More like precocious. You should see her sometimes. I swear she's smarter than me."

There was a low whistle from the darker-skinned male. "Now I know you're her dad because, seriously, only dads say stuff like that."

"First-hand experience, Isaiah?" teased the paler man. Isaiah snorted.

"No. Dad says that about my little brother sometimes, though." He took a seat as did the others. I released Monica's finger and instead turned to my father. He wasn't quite looking at me, which was cause for pouting, but I endured.

Frankly, it was boring. They talked about current events, Monica fawned over me, and plans for the future were discussed. I learned the blonde man's name was Jacob and his goal was to enter the military. Monica was already studying to become a doctor and it seemed to me Isaiah had a crush on the dark-skinned woman. He had stated he wanted to go into law. It seemed vaguely underwhelming when Dad admitted he was going to wait a few years before pursuing his dream of alchemy.

"Why?" asked Monica, who was absently trying to get me to play with her. I wasn't biting the bait. Or, rather, responding to her efforts. She hadn't given up yet.

"Her," Dad said, nodding at me. "It'll be a bit different when she's a little older." Jacob frowned. "She's got a lot of firsts yet. I don't want to be somewhere else while she's learning how to talk and stuff."

"Yeah. I get it," admitted Monica. "After Abby died, we didn't really know why you dropped off the face of the planet just about. Then we find out you have a daughter?"

"It was a huge shock," Dad said in exasperated tones. It was something they'd clearly spoken about before. "Yes, I know. But I'd never trade her for _anything_. She's my kid. She's Abby's, too." I reached for him, leaning to do so, and he complied. Soon, I was in his lap and examining the restaurant from my new position. I then went after his coffee.

I really missed coffee.

He squawked and hurriedly got me away from the cup, setting it far from the edge. There were sniggers even as I pouted. "No, Xiao-Hua," he scolded. I huffed. "And you won't win this argument. Stop that." He popped my thigh and I grunted, rolling my eyes. Jerk. I wanted _coffee_.

Even if fueling baby on stimulants wasn't a great idea, I liked it and that was all that counted. "You're having an argument with a baby," noted Isaiah, chuckling.

"Why do I have a feeling she usually wins?" teased Monica.

"Because she's _smart_ ," Dad grunted. He deftly kept his coffee cup away from me even as he sipped from it. I wasn't happy and watched him taunt me. "You think I'm joking. She's getting to the point she likes watching me do alchemy and is _trying_ to copy my circles."

"Seriously?" gaped Jacob. He wasn't the only one looking impressed. "How old is she again?"

"Nine months now?" Dad half-questioned. "Almost ten months." He put his coffee cup too close to the edge. I went after it. He swore. "Dawn!"

Coffee was now on the table and floor. I gave him my best innocent look possible. His friends laughed at him as he growled. I just made myself look even more cute and harmless and innocent. He did not look pleased.

"So, can I hold her?" Monica asked.

"Sure."

Coffee cups were put well away from me but I didn't let that get me down. "What would it hurt giving her a little coffee?" asked Jacob curiously.

"She's hyper enough without caffeine," Dad returned. "If you feed her some, you get to care for her until she crashes." Just to punctuate this, I laughed. And Monica, who held me, grinned.

.

When I achieved a year old, I learned when exactly I was born because it was a day that was constantly said by my grandmother as she prepared for a party. Why one-year-olds needed birthday parties was beyond me but it seemed an effort to forget the other thing that happened a year ago: My mother had died giving birth to me.

So, I gave in. Not that I had much choice but as someone who was born in the early part of spring on March third. Third day of the third month. And this year was, as I learned, nineteen oh-one. So, my birthdate was March third, nineteen hundred. It sounded like a pretty cool birthday to me. I was dressed in a tiny outfit my grandmother had stitched up and my hair, already somewhat longish, was put into pigtails that puffed up from the sides of my head. I eyed the pink fabric warily, knowing that there would be cake mashed into it if they dared feed me any. It was a pretty dress, complete with lace trim and a darker pink ribbon around my middle, but it was also clearly going to get messy. I sighed wearily as I was fussed over.

"You're too young to be sighing like that, sweetie," teased my grandmother as she tapped a finger on my nose. "It's your birthday!" she cheered. "And you're so…" She halted and I looked at her, seeing her sadness overtake her. Her eyes misted with tears and she bit her lip. "I wish your mother was here," she whispered sadly. My heart ached for her. I carefully stood up on the bed and reached up with one hand. She took it and I smiled. "She would have loved you so much…"

And I tried. I really tried. Children parrot at first. Trying to put together words that they hear and mimic. And they all spoke to me constantly. Because I did understand and they could see I understood. And I knew how to use my tongue and I knew how to use my lips. I could say this. "Lllub." My baby burble of before wasn't quite so deliberate. She mistook it as burble, though.

"Yeah, sweetie. She would have loved you. It was wrong of me to hide her from Roy. Seeing what I do now…"

"Lub," I tried again. "Lub oou." She froze, staring at me in shock. And then she burst into tears, scooping me up into her arms. She hugged me tight as she wept, making things uncomfortable for me, but I patted her and kept saying those two heavily mangled words.

That was how Grandpa found us. "Sarah? What's…? Why are you crying?" I looked at him as his wife gathered herself up. She pressed a kiss to my forehead, almost reverentially.

"Our grandbaby just… She just said her first words!" she said with pride. "Her first words on her birthday! It's a gift! _She's_ a gift!" Grandpa looked at me in surprise. "Say it for Grandpa Barty, sweetie! Say it for him! Say 'love you'!"

"Lub oou," I offered. He grinned then and promptly gathered me up to give me a big, wet 'grandpa' kiss. One of those embarrassing ones that you hate later but always secretly love.

"Love you, too, Dawnie," he said, hugging me close. "Let's go tell your daddy you love him, too."

I was allowed to toddle next to my grandfather as I held his hand. It was so much bigger than mine that I wondered if I'd ever match it. We walked into the living area where Dad was currently fighting streamers and a surge of giddiness overcame me even as I squealed and went after the bright ribbons.

"Dawn! No!" he yelped, startled, as I grabbed the brightly colored tissue and accidentally tore some of it. I paused at the frailty and was pulled out of the mess. "I can fix it," he sighed.

"That doesn't matter. Dawn, do it again!" I gave her a wide-eyed innocent look. "Come on, you do it for daddy. Go on!" I looked at my dad and he looked puzzled.

"What's going on?"

"She said her first words, Roy! She really did!" He seemed startled.

"Yeah?" She nodded.

"I heard them myself, too. Come on, Dawnie. Tell your dad."

Well, I couldn't disappoint them, could I? I turned to my father and smiled. He was looking expectant now. So, I did it. "Lub oou." His eyes widened. I watched as they began to shine with unshed tears.

I was unsurprised when I was hugged once again. On the anniversary of the day Abby (whatever her actual full name was spelled) Edgecombe died, I said my first words. It was bound to cause some issues of the teary variety. Especially the one's _I'd_ chosen.

'Love you' was powerful. And I was very glad I'd chosen it as my first true words.

Dad had to let me go, needing to finish the streamers. He repaired the break in the paper using alchemy and making me excited to see it. It was like a special treat on my birthday. I tried to copy his circle again and was disappointed in the distinctly wobbly shape. Of course, for my father this was equivalent to me being a great alchemist. I was trying to copy his circles, not do actual alchemy.

I still listened to his droning read-aloud sessions from his alchemy books. That crap was either dry or dizzyingly hard. I didn't know if I would be an alchemist but I could at least learn a little to give me something special with my dad.

By the time the party started, there were a few people there that were more interested in cooing over the baby than much else. And the baby was me, naturally. Dad had invited his friends and Aunt Chris showed up with a few of the more _polite_ girls that had become somewhat-aunts as well. Grandma and Grandpa had few friends come over and I became aware that some of them had children, too. It was the first time I was really introduced to others and I stared at them in curiosity.

Might I mention it was _really_ weird to be shorter than a five-year-old? Said five-year-old was actually Monica's youngest sibling. She had three others but they weren't there and Monica had to watch over Sophia herself. Sophia did not look happy to be there. She was the oldest of the children. There were three others. One was a four-year-old boy. Then there was the two-year-old girl that had her hair drawn up into curly pigtails of brown. Finally there was the infant that was maybe four months my junior. He was sitting up and curiously looking around from his mother's lap.

I had the overwhelming urge to hide in my father's arms. I didn't do children even if I was one. Skedaddling to him, I reached up and he looked down as I pulled on his pants leg. "What is it?" he asked. I grunted, arms upraised. "Why don't you play with the others?" Indeed, save for the baby, the others were tentatively playing. I pouted, arms straining, before offering a whine.

"Don't you want to play, Dawnie?" asked Monica. "Sophie is good at games." I whined again. Dad sighed and picked me up. "She'll turn rotten as can be if you keep doing that," noted the dark-skinned woman.

"To be fair, she's not really played a lot with other children so maybe she's scared."

Scared. Right. Of tiny little people that were nastier than Lilliputians were to Goliath. No… not… Gaston? No. Hell, I don't know! Some kind of giant issue! I clung to him and was annoyed yet unsurprised when he set me down among the children.

"Dawn doesn't really know how to play," he told the other three, mainly to Sophia. I pushed back into his arms though he turned me out of them. "Could you play some games with her?"

"Yes, sir," agreed Sophia. The boy mumbled an agreement as the girl stared. I was abandoned and Dad _left me_ there with them. Alone. Without backup.

I was not allowed to escape.

"C'mon! Play!" encouraged the two-year-old. Her little hand was like a manacle around my wrist as she dragged me off to play, the older two following gamely.

I looked over my shoulder and realized I couldn't see anyone that would rescue me. Dad was talking with others and Grandma was busy with the women folk in the kitchen and Grandpa was glancing but didn't seem eager to help.

I was alone in enemy territory… in my _grandparents' house_. I swore vengeance on my family. I gave them my first words only to be subjugated to _this_.

Unfortunately for me, in retrospect, the playing was actually kind of fun.

We were called in a bit later for cake and I got to have a piece for myself. There had been no candles but the vanilla cake with the strawberry frosting was pretty and it had my dress practically written on it. Or my dress would have _it_ written on it. Because I was cute, I got to destroy. And I was not provided a fork or spoon so I had to eat it with my hands.

Dad found out that he wasn't immune to pink frosting, by the way. I messily ate cake and stared at him as he tried to get the smear of icing off his vest as the people around us chuckled in amusement. It was also all over my face and in my lap. I was not going to see how badly, though. I was more amused by the fact my father still had pink on his face and everyone was laughing at him. I grinned cheerily and knew that one day the pictures from this event would haunt me in my teenage years when I deigned to find 'love'… or at least a chance to annoy my dad, but I didn't care.

Dad had pink frosting on his face. My day was completely and utterly _made_.

.

"I cannot believe you _did_ that," complained my dad as he bathed me that night. I giggled. "Xiao-Hua, you are a mess," he noted as I slapped at the water. He flinched as it hit him. There were _bubbles_ and my baby instincts _adored_ bubbles. I did, too, actually. I blew a raspberry at him and then giggled, my tongue still out. He grabbed it gently with two fingers and I squealed before toppling backwards into the water.

A baby slicked with soap was a fast way to lose it in the tub. We apparently turn oily or something and it's hard to grab us and it wasn't the first time Dad jumped to save me only to have to save me again. When I sat up, there was nothing but white and it suddenly stung.

I had soap in my eyes and I squealed in pain. He was swearing and I felt him pull me out of the tub to get me to the sink. After dabbing the suds away, he got a clean cloth, soaked it, and then wrung it out over my face. "Hold still," he soothed. "Hold still, Xiao-Hua." I instinctively wormed, crying. I would have stuffed my head under the faucet but he wasn't able to keep me pinned and wash the soap out. "Baby girl, please hold still," he begged. His hand was on my tummy and I was on a towel. There wasn't much counter but he held me firm. It was uncomfortable and I was unhappy and hurting and it just wasn't good.

Naturally, it attracted attention. "What is going on in here?" demanded Aunt Chris, having seen the bathroom door open. "Roy, what are you doing?"

"She got soap in her eyes," Dad said tersely. "I'm washing it out."

"Do you need help?" With my squalling, I bet he did. Not that I could think about it.

"Yes! I'll hold her if you help me wash out the soap."

With concerted effort, I was pinned close and screamed as he kept my hands from my face. Aunt Chris helped him wash my eyes out and carefully pried each eye open to help flush it. By the end of it, I was shivering and exhausted and grateful for when I was bundled into a towel. I got a new diaper on my rump and was just wrapped into a nice blanket. My eyes were a bit bleary from all the water run over them and I squinted a little at my dad. He peered at me from the edge of the bed as I'd been plopped in the middle of his again.

"I'm sorry," he told me. "I know that hurt." It wasn't his fault. I burrowed further into the blanket and closed my eyes. They felt better shut. He smoothed a hand over my wet hair. "Oh, Xiao-Hua… This was a big day for you, wasn't it?" I mumbled. "I love you." There was a prompting quality to it. "I love you, Xiao-Hua."

I knew what he wanted. "Lub oou," I repeated. He chuckled and continued smoothing at my hair.

"My little Dawn Rose," he murmured. "You're smarter than you even know."

No, I really wasn't. I wasn't that smart. I had just been permitted a few 'cheats' in this life. I fell asleep, his scent in my nose. I knew I'd wake up in my own bed but I didn't care.

.

Now that I was a year old, a hundred percent mobile, beginning to talk, and almost had a full mouth of teeth, I was considered truly dangerous. Not in the traditional sense of 'grr, argh, bite, stomp, level a city Godzilla-style' but rather I was considered a flirt. Why so? Well, I decided to harass my father by getting a boyfriend. His name was Tommy and he was cute and he was a little older than me. I kissed him on the playground and he grinned and my father had a heart attack.

Well, no, he didn't have a heart attack but he did trip over his own two feet and found the ground rather handily. I held Tommy's hand and cheerily went to play some more when I saw Dad would be fine.

Dad did not let me keep my boyfriend. He found me, picked me up, and hauled me off the playground. "No boyfriends," he sputtered. I giggled. "No boys until you're _thirty_ ," he swore.

Good luck with that one, dad. "Da!" I squealed before giving him a kiss. It was the biggest, sloppiest kiss I could manage. Nothing like the little peck I'd done for Tommy. There was even spit left behind. Despite my adult flinch at the mess, I was rather proud of it. He grimaced himself.

"Okay, just me. And not in a perverted sense," he hedged. "No boys until you're thirty, Dawn. Please. I totally get why Barty and Sarah were hard about me dating their daughter now. Please." I was too busy laughing at him to disagree. He took me to my grandparents and promptly held me out. "She's flirting with boys on the playground!" he whined.

I grinned. Grandpa stared at me as I dangled and clapped my hands. "Is that so?"

"Yes, and I'm so sorry I dated your daughter!" I giggled. Grandpa smirked.

"Come here, Dawnie. Daddy's finally found out what 'come full circle' means." I cackled a baby laugh and happily settled in his grasp. "So, what did you do?" I made kissy faces. He blinked.

"There was a boy and she kissed him," Dad admitted. "And held his hand. He didn't seem too against it, either." Grandpa turned to him, eyes wide.

"You haven't been setting a bad example, have you?"

"No!" There was an extended pause. "Not me, directly," Dad admitted. "Aunt Chris's girls are… sisterly affectionate?" Grandpa was frowning disapprovingly.

"She might have gotten the idea from them, then." Dad groaned, running fingers through his black hair. "You've got a little heartbreaker on your hands, son. I'd be careful with it if I were you."

Dad stared at me and sighed.

"What's going on?" Grandma came out of the kitchen with hands in her apron as she dried them.

"Dawnie kissed a boy in the park," Grandpa admitted. "Or so Roy says."

"She did. It shocked me bad enough I tripped." More than tripped but I couldn't quite relay the whole story. I gleefully waved my arms and clapped my hands and yelled 'dow!' Dad caught the meaning of it and frowned at my 'betrayal'. Grandpa thought I meant _down_ so he put me down.

I giggled and ran to get to my blocks. I loved my blocks. They were a birthday present. They were wooden and colored and I could stack them up and up until I decided to knock them down.

Admittedly, in another life, I had a love affair with wooden blocks and Legos. There was just something _awesome_ about them. And I could play until Dad was done with my grandparents. Hey, toys were toys and epic toys were always going to be epic. And these were always going to be epic, baby brain or no baby brain.

By the time I was carted off, I'd made a good tower and had regretted having to take it down. Impressed sounds or no, they'd ruined my fun.

"Just between you and me, Xiao-Hua," my dad said to me as we walked down the road back to our home, "I'd like to keep it between us that I fell on my face." I mushed one hand on my face, flattening my nose, and grinned at him. "Yeah, that's not very discrete." I mushed my hand against his face then and he shook his head, dislodging it. "Silly girl."

I giggled and waved and chattered in his grip and eventually he let me walk alongside him, one hand holding onto mine. It was fun. It was amazing. I had a great dad. Roy Mustang was a great dad.

In that moment, I was blindsided and fell to a stop. A shiver went through my body and I barely realized Dad had paused. Roy Mustang. His name was _Roy_ _Mustang_. How had I missed it for an entire _year_?

My father… was an alchemist. One day, he'd become a famous one. "Xiao-Hua?" he called to me, unaware that I knew his destiny. I looked up at him in shock. His face… How had I not seen? "What's wrong, baby girl? Are you tired?" He picked me up and I clung to him, still preoccupied with my thoughts.

My father was Roy Mustang.

The year was nineteen oh-one.

I was suddenly certain I needed to be an alchemist.

-/-/-/-

Thank you for reading. **Please review.**


	3. In Which He Leaves Me

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

NOTE: I'm not bothering to overly-mangle my character's speech with baby talk. She's a two-year-old that's learned how to speak and, while a little advanced thanks to her memories, she _doesn't_ have perfect grammar. Much like any other muscle, her vocal cords have to be strengthened with use. 'No' is easy but 'th' sounds and some of the harder syllable turns in words will get garbled. I just won't type it out as it would be 'widicuwous'. Instead of 'ridiculous'.

Reviews: I had a few comments noting how humorous it was for Roy to slip and fall when watching Dawn kiss a boy. Technically, the way I pictured it, he wasn't watching his feet and found either a ridge, tripped over his own feet, or slipped on gravel (can't remember exactly what I envisioned) when he was preoccupied with her kissing the kid. That meant he didn't _quite_ face-plant (despite what Dawn indicated) as he would have partially caught himself before finding the ground with his face. Still, he fell.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 3: In Which He Leaves Me

.

The revelation that I was the illegitimate daughter of a one-day famous alchemist did not directly impact my life. It did, however, send me fairly introspective. I thought constantly about the future, about what would happen. I tried to piece together from hazy memory about a television show and a comic book so far in the _past_ that I didn't really remember that much. I'd been a half-hearted reader at best and hadn't really had time for the anime. Either of them. It was a miracle that I remembered that there _had_ been two of them. And now? I was in a world where my father was _the Roy Mustang_. Everything that I knew about this world lined up with that fact. This country was named Amestris and there was alchemy. Those were extremely broad strokes, I knew, but the truth was that he was _Roy Mustang_. The infamous Flame Alchemist.

If it wasn't the _coup de grace_ of ultimate anime nerdiness, I will tell you this: It was suddenly _freaking weird_. The character known as a womanizer was completely bowled over for a baby. And said baby was incapable of doing _anything_ for a family far to the east in a tiny town with some funny name because she was a _baby_. Edward and his brother had no idea the pain in store for them and the only reason I knew Edward's name was because it had been the same name of some annoying book character I'd not liked. The other one was a tin can eventually. The hell if I remembered. But I did know that they'd lose their parents (reasoning lost to me) and that Edward would be bound to the military minus an arm and leg. Unless the military required an arm and leg to sign up – which was doubtful – I think there was some plot point as to why he wound up missing his limbs. And why the armor brother dude was 'armor brother dude'.

Yes, I was pathetic… but if I was to be honest, time had behaved like moths and my memories were clothes moths loved to eat. What was before was fading more and more and I couldn't do anything about it because _I couldn't write_.

Which led to the next round of confusion. Which story was I in? Was I in one of the two animes, each with their own stories? Was I in the comic? Was I in a whole new variant of all of it? Was it a conglomerate of all three?

Was I just hallucinating or maybe making mountains out of molehills?

That I couldn't answer. Not to any satisfaction at any rate. Too many evil questions. Too many doubts. I was stuck and I couldn't do a thing about it. And, of course, my family noticed. Especially Dad. He realized soon after I'd stopped playing as much that I wasn't really focused on any of the toys I had. He worried I was sick. He checked my temperature. He even took me to the hospital.

I found myself before a young doctor with black hair and a serious face. "There's nothing wrong with her," he told my father after having checked me over thoroughly.

"She's behaving weird," Dad insisted. I looked at him.

"She's a girl and a baby. That happens," noted the doctor. To be fair, I'd not paid attention to his name.

"She's behaving weird for _her_ ," Dad corrected. The man arched a brow. "Please. Check her _again_?"

The doctor gave me a long look before giving a world-weary sigh. This man had no doubt seen more children come through his door with parents thinking something was definitely wrong with their child and 'one more checkup'. I understood him. I commiserated with him. I also had no intention to have him stick a thermometer back up my rectum _again_. Once was far more than enough, thank you.

I scooted back towards my father. "If she shows signs of actual illness, do come back," advised the man upon watching me get closer to my dad. "But she's physically fine. She's healthy. If anything, she's almost _too_ healthy. Most kids I know have sniveling noses and the like. Genuine health issues. You're talking about a behavioral change and that's something I can't help with. You're taking good care of her and I don't see any outstanding medical issues."

Thank you, doctor. Time to go, Dad! "And other outstanding issues?" Dad asked hesitantly. The man sighed and looked him over. Not me. Him.

"Boy, I know you're a father but you're going to need to take time for yourself. If you don't keep _your_ mental health up, it can affect Dawn."

He just called my dad a basket case. This was different. It almost made me giggle because I was used to being a bigger basket case.

"But, sir…"

"Go. Have a good evening. Make sure you stop by the billing department before you go."

We were kicked out. I looked up at my father. He looked down at me.

"Well… second opinion?"

"No," I grunted.

"You're worrying me, Xiao-Hua. You really are."

I just sighed and was glad when he set me down so I could walk with him. Fingers curled into his hand, I toddled along next to him.

.

There were times that I loved being a baby now. Then there were times like these. I huddled in my father's lap, swaddled into a blanket, and shivering. It wasn't that cold outside but somehow I'd developed a fever and I was _miserable_. Currently, it was the middle of the night. Currently, it was him sitting on his bed propped against a wall and holding me close because I didn't want to lie down.

Not that I had any good reason for this but, unfortunately, I didn't want to. Baby reasoning.

He was fitfully dozing as I mumbled in my cocoon of blanket and shivered convulsively. I hated illness. I hated getting sick. And this was a definite carryover from my past life. My baby instincts agreed with my opinion, unsurprisingly. He shifted, rubbing at my back through my blanket, and stirred a little. "Xiao-Hua?" he muttered. "Feeling better yet?"

"No," I told him. He didn't take my word for it, of course, and felt at my face.

"Yeah, you're still feverish. I'm sorry." I sighed. He then shifted to lie down and I was positioned next to him. The smell of him proved soothing, like usual, and I breathed even if I wanted to fuss. I didn't want to be lying down. I really didn't. But I also knew that Dad needed to work in the morning and he did need some modicum of rest. By the time the sun had risen again, he was dead tired as he gathered my things up to go over to Grandma and Grandpa's house. I helped as much as I could but I was still a bit sick.

When we went over to the Edgecombe house, Grandma took one look at us and frowned. "Come in," she told Dad, who carried me all bundled in a blanket.

"Thanks," he mumbled but twitched in surprise as a hand came across his forehead.

"I'm amazed you're not running a fever," Grandma noted with a frown, checking his cheeks and then the back of his neck. "You look like you're completely worn out." Dad coughed in embarrassment.

"It's been a long night. I hope you don't mind looking out for her again today." The older woman scowled.

"You're going to work? Like _this_?"

"Yes?" he blinked. I was transferred to Grandma's arms, blanket and all, and watched as she grabbed Dad by the arm and dragged him into the kitchen.

"I don't think so. You're going to make _yourself_ very sick if you keep working like you are."

"I have to work to help Dawn," he protested. "I don't like having to rely on others' good graces to support us!" Not that Grandma was listening. She settled me onto a chair and filled up a kettle before putting that on the stove. "Sarah, I need to go."

"You will _sit_ , boy," she commanded, glaring as he half-rose. He immediately plopped down again under her glare. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured as he watched her prepare a mug of tea. I crawled down off my seat, dragging the blanket with me. Dad made to grab me but I moved out of his reach quickly. It did not stop Grandpa from managing to scoop me up as he walked in and I whined.

"Hey, Dawnie," he chided. "Why are you complaining?"

"She's been awake off and on all night," Dad sighed, running a tired hand through his hair.

"You look like you've done the same," Grandpa noted, eyebrows going high. "You alright?"

"He isn't. He's going to stay here today even if I have to embarrass him by spanking him myself," Grandma said sharply. Grandpa blinked. Dad looked worried as she turned back to the stove as the kettle began to sing.

"She wouldn't _actually_ do that, right?" Dad hedged cautiously to Grandpa in a quiet voice. The older man looked at him, bemused, even as Grandma spoke up.

"You bet I would. Who do you think punished Abby when she was misbehaving? That big softy over there?" Grandpa chuckled at the affronted look on Dad's face.

"I didn't like punishing Abby," he admitted. Grandma settled a mug before Dad and looked at him expectantly.

"You're going to drink that then go up to the guest room and get some _rest_ ," she told him sternly. "Call in and let them know you're not feeling good and you need some rest." They stared at each other, Dad clearly not interested in backing down but seeing little option. Grandma was stern in her concern and perhaps unaware of how much that meant to him even if he didn't completely appreciate it in this moment.

Finally, Dad consented and did as told as Grandma took me. "And you, young lady," she advised seriously, "will need a bit of breakfast and then a lie down. If your daddy's tired, then you are probably, too."

After breakfast, Dad did call and then took me upstairs with him to bed. It was nice having a day where we were just together and nothing else involved but we weren't completely alone, either, as Grandma checked on us after she sent Grandpa off. I did sleep quite a bit over the day, fingers knotted into his shirt. His hand remained on my back unless either of us had to get up. The background noise of Grandma shuffling about and occasionally even coming in to make sure we were alright was nice.

I'd forgotten what simplicity was when I was an adult. I'd longed for the easiness of youth. Now that I had it again, I appreciated it far more. People don't usually get these do-overs. Only resets. I at least retained my memories in this respect and every minute I had was cherished.

Hopefully, I wouldn't be too jaded later on in life.

.

When afternoon came, Dad and I were both feeling loads better. So much better, in fact, that he and I were drawing on the kitchen table. He was practicing his circles, amazing me yet again. Geometrically correct circles were nearly impossible freehand and he did it with such a twist to his hand that it produced something that wasn't remotely egg-shaped.

I admit I mimicked him a lot, garnering wobbly, eggy circles. I wasn't interested in the inside lines. I wanted to be able to draw like _that_. And dad seemed very amused at my efforts. "No, Xiao-Hua. Like _this_." He lifted me into his lap from the chair I'd been kneeling in and then proceeded to do a near-perfect circle. I watched very seriously before attempting the same wrist and finger motion.

The result was something mostly circular but still eggy. Then Dad did another and I repeated copying him. It went on for a while even as Grandma seemed torn between bemusement and disapproval. No doubt teaching a toddler the beginnings of alchemy was frowned upon but Dad knew it and I enjoyed trying to copy him. It was a nice afternoon, one punctuated with snacks and a radio going in the background as well as the two of us helping Grandma on occasion.

By the evening, right before Grandpa came home, she hugged Dad. He froze in her grip even as I looked on in the midst of stacking blocks. "You are such a hardheaded boy," she muttered to him. "Why don't you _listen_?"

"Sorry…"

"Don't be sorry. Be smart. You're an alchemist, so use your head. When we're telling you that you need a break, you should take a little bit of one, step back, and give yourself a breather. Making yourself sick only opens you up to making Dawn sick and you being unable to do what you need to for longer."

He visibly stiffened at the words before worming free. She let him go. "If I don't work, then I don't get anywhere." He swallowed, not meeting her gaze as he looked towards me. I stared back, observing him carefully. "I… I'm…" He stopped before looking a bit ashamed. "Perhaps it's time I finally went for that training." The words startled me. Training? He wanted to go to training? When?

"You mean with that Hawkeye man?" Dad hummed slightly. I moved to him, frightened. Even if I knew he was supposed to be a famous alchemist and that logically he needed training, I wasn't prepared for the idea of him leaving me. Because, why would he take me with him? I was a child and would be problematic to work around. I couldn't be well cared for _and_ allow him enough time to train. It made sense for him to leave me behind. That did not mean I took the idea well.

Even as I was staring down the barrel of my future with utter horror, my father was speaking. "I have no idea how long it would take but… I assume it would be safe to leave her here with you? Not that I'm abandoning my duty as a father but… on the path that I'm on, I'm not going to be able to do much more than I am right now. And that's not fair to her."

"Remember, it won't be very fair in her eyes when you go," noted Grandma. He looked to me as I stared back at him in worry.

"Daddy?" I questioned and watched his face close further, shuttering regrets and worries behind a façade that I saw instantly.

"If I don't, we'll… never be able to be more than what we are right now."

.

I saw the letters he wrote and I saw the replies to them. I saw that the negotiation itself was slanted in this Berthold Hawkeye's favor and I saw that there were some pretty stiff regulations about the entire thing. For one, the man cited that if Dad dared to steal his work or claim it as his own invention, he'd be discredited in the alchemist community for the rest of his life. For another, it was fought back and forth for the length of time to be under the man's tutelage. Dad wanted at least two years with month-long breaks every so often to come see me. He'd initially tried to hedge for me to come with him but the Hawk man said that he had no patience to deal with _two_ children besides his own. Finally, negotiations were struck and I was at a loss.

I was going to lose my daddy to someone and _something_ about the Hawkeye name bothered me extensively. It brought to mind guns, for whatever reason, and not the kind of disdain for them that one guy in that one army medical unit television show had for them when used on his patients. When I thought of _that_ guy, I thought of martinis.

I didn't even know what was _in_ martinis except for James Bond coolness. I think. I don't know. And something to do with genies. Seriously. I didn't know. I did have some experience in alcohol in my previous life _and_ in this one as my family rubbed a little whiskey on my gums to dull teeth-cutting pain. I couldn't remember what was in a martini, though.

Alcohol aside, I had no idea why the Hawkeye name bothered me. I knew it had something to do with Dad but not at this time. I knew it was important, too. Something important for Dad.

Because of my troubled heart, I became cranky. For a generally genial baby, I was now notably misbehaving. Grandma dismissed it as 'terrible twos'. Dad suspected that it was because I knew he was aiming to leave me and guessed I was afraid it would be a permanent arrangement. Grandpa just said I was finally acting my age instead of as a little old lady and took to carrying me more with little jumps and bumps to get me to smile.

I did, in fact, smile. I even laughed. I talked, I walked, I played, and everything else like normal.

Except for the moments where I would stop and remember my father, the man I _relied_ on and _adored_ , would be leaving me for the majority of two years. The equivalency of what I'd already lived around him. For a child, that was practically forever. For me, it wasn't _quite_ the same but close enough.

He realized it, too, because we spent more time together. Dad liked playing with my hair. Perhaps it was because I was an absolute pushover with someone working a brush or fingers through it or because I had hair that could be played _with_ but when he wanted to just sit and be quiet he'd take a brush and comb my hair. He'd even play with it, doing silly pigtails or braids or even trying and usually failing to get it to go into a bun. He had a few barrettes and ribbons and things to pin my hair with, some of it I could actually keep in my hair.

And he played with my hair a lot in the evenings as I sat with a book in an effort to try and read.

Well, I knew how to read. Reading aloud was a little harder. "Th' pup-py bark-ed at th' bug to ask it to play," I read with a lisp, somewhere between bored and entertained. "An' th' bug crawled a-way. It made th' pup-py sad." It was a really odd duality. "Then th' pup-py saw th' bir-duh. He bark-ed to ask it t' play. Th' bir-duh did not want t' play an' flew a-way."

"You're doing very well, Xiao-Hua," complimented Dad as he delicately wove my hair into a long plait. "You're ahead of everyone else. Did you know that?" I moved to shake my head but the tug of my hair stopped me and he hissed slightly. "Well, so much for that braid." I stared over my shoulder at him. His dark eyes showed his annoyance.

"Sorry." The annoyance softened even as I ducked my head. He sighed and drew me close.

"You're angry with me, aren't you? For me having to go away?" I didn't respond which was a response all its own. "I promise it's not forever."

"But two year? _I_ two year," I protested. He cringed. "It's really long!"

"I know. I know, Xiao-Hua."

"I wanna be with _you_." He combed out the ruined braid with his fingers.

"I want to be with you, too," he reassured.

"But you gonna leave," I accused. Dark eyes closed and pain was visible in his face even with my incorrect grammar. I wanted to scream. I wanted to stomp. I wanted to throw a _hissy fit_.

But I also knew that if he didn't go, he'd probably never be the alchemist Colonel. Being able to reason actually sucked. Because that meant I was aware of the fact I was behaving poorly and that I knew his going away for a while would help not only him but me as well.

It did not change the fact my greatest fear was that he'd leave me behind and never come back. I could not find anything in my memory that ever mentioned Roy Mustang as a father. He went on a lot of _dates_ and he had game that I had admired to some degree. But I don't remember that and it terrified me to think he would go off and _never come back_. Because there hadn't been a mention of an aunt or anything that happened to his parents, either.

I was scared. I admit I was scared.

And I admit I behaved like an utter _brat_ between these moments and the moment I knew he'd leave. Because if I behaved like a terror, at least then if he left I would know it was my own fault and not because he didn't love me.

.

Predictably, this got my butt busted and I squealed like I was being actually hurt. Bad behavior got bad rewards. And it was my dad that finally had to do it because I had deliberately upended a box of salt all over the floor.

Then I got timeout.

And I pouted and glared and… slowly grew bored in my nice little corner far from anything remotely interesting. But it did serve one purpose. I was able to watch everyone and I could sit still for the most part. It wasn't nearly as boring as trying to read children's books.

By the time I was let out of the corner, I was ready to get up. It was either that or go to sleep.

Melody grinned as she hoisted me up. "Ooh, you're getting big!" A quarter of my life had been thus far spent around escorts. The other three quarters were split between sleeping and my grandmother. "So, are you going to behave for your daddy now?" I wasn't sure what to say to that so I shrugged. "You don't know?" I did, actually, know. I just wasn't going to tell her that I was likely to misbehave again.

By default, I was going to misbehave again. I had way too much time to be pretty and perfect. That would be _boring_.

I managed to escape from Melody and the others. I climbed by myself up the stairs to the very top where Dad's room was. Technically, this building was three stories plus a basement. Storage in the basement. Kitchen and front room on the first. Second held bedroom, bath, and a smallish living space behind the 'rooms' for customers. Top room was little more than an attic renovated. And the only reason Dad and I had that one was because Aunt Chris didn't care to walk up all the steps all the time.

I passed her on my way up and she arched a brow at me. I paused to look back at her. "Where's your father?" she asked bluntly.

Aunt Chris was… Well, if I didn't know better I would swear she was a man in drag. She is the epitome of a husky, heavyset woman with too much makeup, black hair dye to hide her grays, and a heavy-lidded look that came off more as half-asleep disinterest than a seductive, smoky look. Speaking of smoke, she did actually smoke. Almost continuously. The entire place smelled of cigarette smoke. Even our room smelled of smoke.

"Up," I said, pointing to the stairs.

"Is that so?" I nodded. There was a moment when I wasn't sure if I could go on or not. "So, Dawn…" I watched her warily and she seemed thoughtful. "You're not an average child." Where was this going? Those eyes perhaps saw more than anyone else dared to see and that idea made me nervous. "Tell me, what do you see for the future?"

That was a convoluted question with many answers. I frowned. No average two-year-old could hope to knit that kind of idea together and I knew any answer I gave would be notable.

But I felt the urge to tell the truth. "Daddy will be…" I tried to put something to it.

"I meant about you," Aunt Chris asked. Smoke curled around her head. I frowned before speaking.

"I wait."

"For?"

"Daddy…" She nodded.

"And if that's not for years?" I looked steadily at her.

"I wait… for Daddy or for Daddy t' say 'go 'way'." The look in her face said a lot. I'd disturbed her. I scurried for the steps and ignored her staring after me. Emerging onto the landing, I realized Dad was waiting for me.

"You shouldn't have climbed the steps by yourself," he scolded. "It's dangerous." He ushered me into the room and I huffed before sighting the suitcase on his bed. It was half-packed. I froze at the sight before stumbling as Dad ran into me, having not seen me stop. He staggered before catching himself and looking down. "Careful, Xiao-Hua."

I moved and sat down on my bed, hands in my lap, gaze fixed on that suitcase. Even if I had told Aunt Chris I'd wait, it was still hard to see. It was still hard to _accept_.

Daddy wanted to leave in order to learn. I wasn't supposed to go with him. He saw my look and scooped me up. I hugged him, arms about his neck, and then he put me smack into his open suitcase. That surprised me.

He then tried to push me down into said case. "Daddy!" I squeaked, shocked beyond belief.

"I'm just trying to pack everything that would be important," he returned, still poking me down even though I was clearly messing up his clothes. His pokes made me giggle and his smile appeared as I laughed. "For some reason, the most important thing doesn't fit," he went on, stilling. I looked up at him in surprise. He scooped me up and sat me next to his suitcase. "So, that means I can't take that very important thing with me. Do you know who that most important thing is?" I hesitantly nodded. "Who?"

"Me?" He smiled and nodded.

"You. You're the most important thing. So, do you know what I'm going to do?" I shook my head. "I'm going to take this." He handed me a small booklet and I looked at the leather cover before he opened it for me. The first thing I saw was him holding me as a baby. "Do you know who that is?"

"You."

"And you as a baby." He smiled, turning the page. "And there's you again." He turned the page. "And again." Another flip. "And again." He kept turning them to reveal ten photos in all, all featuring me in some fashion or form. "Because I can't take you with me, I'll take these and trust your grandma and grandpa with you, alright? And I'll come back every three months for a week, okay?" His teacher hadn't wanted him to have a month in between training sessions so this was the compromise. I nodded quietly as he took the folder from me, closed it back, and put it into his case. He straightened his clothes back and I watched as he did so. "Do you want to make up a bag to take to Grandma's? So you can have a suitcase like mine?" I shrugged dispiritedly. He didn't let that get him down, though. "Alright. Let's do it." Into a distinctly smaller case went some clothes, Horsey (because, seriously, I couldn't invent a better name), and a few odds and ends. He moved to close it only to find me taking Horsey out. "Don't you want to pack it?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then put it back in the case," Dad told me. Since he had latched his case shut, I went after the latches. "Dawn." I looked up at him. "What are you doing?"

"Packing?" I offered.

"That's not your suitcase. It's mine." Well, duh, Dad. "You should put it in yours so you can have it."

I blinked at him blankly. "No." Now he looked confused.

"We might forget it if we don't pack it," he tried to explain. I went after the latches again only for him to stop me with a hand. "Xiao-Hua, what are you trying to do?" My fingers were nimble enough to snap one of the latches so it was partially undone now and I stared at it.

"Packing Horsey," I told him.

"In my suitcase?" I nodded. "Why?"

"Horsey stay with you?" I offered. He considered that before smiling gently.

"I could let him stay with me. Do you think you can be without Horsey for months?" I nodded. "Then I'll do it. If you need him, just let me know, alright? I can send it back or hold onto it until my break to return it."

"Okay." He poked me.

"Yes, sir." I really wanted to say 'I'm not a sir' but I merely parroted him instead. "Good girl." He undid his case and tucked the toy inside it. "I'll take good care of him, okay?"

"Okay." He didn't correct me this time as he latched the case back. Then he gathered me up into his arms and grunted and groaned like I was impossibly heavy.

"You're going to get too big for this soon!" he complained. "I won't be able to pick you up!" That was true and his dramatics caused me to laugh. His arms engulfed me in a hug and he kissed me and I knew all too soon I'd not have that for a while. It made me want to behave badly but I couldn't protest enough for him to stay. He was determined to help us past this current life and I couldn't get him to listen to me. But I couldn't rightly stop him, either.

So, as we bedded down for the night after our nightly baths, I was allowed into his bed and he held me close. Near the door, our suitcases stood. This would be our last night for some time.

I slept with him, kept near the wall to keep from falling off. I knew things would get better. I was certain they would. I just wish it didn't take time to do so.

.

To say Dad was loaded down the next morning was a bit of an understatement. I was sleepy when he woke and dressed me and the cases had to be juggled carefully as he carried me down the stairs. He muttered to himself constantly, taking each step one at a time instead of the more fluid walk he usually had. Not that I disagreed as I curled against his chest. I did _not_ want to fly down the steps.

Children, by the way, are incredible creatures. Especially babies. I could practically sleep upside down and I was drowsing as he walked unsteadily down steps before leveling out. "You've got an armful." Aunt Chris. "Already going on?"

"Yes, ma'am. We'll get breakfast at the Edgecombe house."

"Right." There was a long pause as I remained slumped on my father's shoulder. "Take care of yourself, boy. And come back as soon as you can. There's someone that will be waiting on you and it won't be me." Dad's fingers tightened on the back of my thighs as I was half-perched on his arm. "That's right," Aunt Chris told him. "I might not have wanted her around in the beginning but she's family and I won't have you hurting her."

"You make it sound like I'm not your family, Aunt Chris," he chided.

"You're old enough to know better now," she snorted. "You don't get as many breaks." Dad chuckled and I listened to the sound through his shoulder as much as through my unhindered ear. "Now, get lost."

"Of course."

The progress down the last set of stairs was just as tedious as the first set but these steps were wider than the upper ones. Then it was out the back door and down the usual alleyway we traversed to the open streets one street over from the Red Light District. I hummed sleepily, mind drifting, as Dad balanced his entire load. He didn't try to unseat me so it was likely he was trying to 'stock up' as some might say. I didn't mind. I got to do the same thing.

Despite this, he still had to juggle two cases because neither had straps. He would have most likely still had to carry both even if I was walking because my case was a little too large for me to haul for any length of time. But my dad had what I would have called 'mom skills', that ability to juggle more than technically possible. But this was Dad, who had to also fill in for 'mother' as well even though Grandma helped quite a bit.

Once we got to Grandma and Grandpa's, they were already up and Grandpa relieved the easier of burdens by helping guide the cases onto the floor. "Had quite a load, didn't you?" he asked rhetorically. "Want me to take her?"

"No, not yet," Dad declined. "We've not had breakfast, though."

"Good, because Sarah made a pretty good breakfast. Griddlecakes and sausage and eggs." I perked up at the idea. Grandma's griddlecakes were good. Dad carried me into the dining room and sat me down in my chair. There was some fussing, mostly Grandma coming to kiss on me and tell me how cute I was. I was in a pink dress. Of course I was cute and I smiled at her for the compliment while offering a 'thank you'. I got griddlecakes, was told to be careful, and ate with gusto. Even if today would ultimately be a bad day, at least it started out nice enough.

We eventually got done and washed up before we headed out again. I was once again in my father's arms but this time he could use both hands to hold me up as Grandpa carried his case for him. Grandma walked unhindered. It was probably a fairly decent procession all considered and we walked under the early sun towards the train station. I knew that Dad had already said many of his goodbyes but he hadn't yet said goodbye to me. Or he was still saying goodbye as he'd hardly let me down for any length of time.

Once we got to the station, I was permitted to walk on my own and I took full advantage of it as I looked around the noisy place. Steam engine locomotives puffed on their lines and added a haze to the large, enclosed space that had been roofed in a combination of corrugated sheet metal and glass skylights. A latticework of supporting structure ensured it wouldn't fall in and there were lights bolted to the various beams rising to meet that latticework. There were two bridges going over the tracks with individual stairwells to different platforms, one for inbound travelers and one for outbound travelers. Unlike the airports of my previous life, there was no over-the-top security that prevented passengers from having their families meet them or see them off. A man checked Dad's ticket and pointed him up over the bridge to the appropriate place. There were a total of ten lines going through the station and six platforms, two of them singular and four doing double-duty, a train on each side. We climbed the stairs to the overhead bridge and I peered around before my eyes landed on something marvelous. I was immediately hooked up into Dad's arms.

"Don't wander off," he told me. "I don't want you falling or getting hurt."

I pointed. "Horses!" Sure enough, on the furthest platform, was a series of disembarking horses. The more passenger-oriented train cars were oriented towards the front of the station and nearer the engines. Baggage of any large or substantial size was typically offloaded closer to the back of the trains and would be trucked around to a secondary depot where people could pick their belongings-slash-shipments up. Or so I learned from my Grandfather who had cheerily told me some of what was going on.

"I guess she's just like any other little girl. Perhaps riding lessons are in order when she's older?" Grandpa asked of Dad.

"If I can afford it," he grumbled in return. "First thing's first. Alchemy apprenticeship and then get a place of our own." Grandpa snorted with laughter.

"Very well, Roy." We walked down the steps to the appropriate platform and I clung a little tighter to him. His train wasn't here yet. There weren't actually any trains on either side of the platform so that was easily determined. We settled on a bench that faced one particular side and I spent a few minutes cuddled into his chest before getting bored and sitting up in his lap to look around. He watched before engaging me with simple games, more for fun than for use. Clapping games, high-fives, and encouraging me to name the alphabet were a few of the games he engaged me with and I amicably went along even if I was bored with them. Those that wandered the platform smiled at us and Grandpa and Grandma were looking couple-y with Grandpa's arm slung about Grandma's shoulders as they watched and gave us time.

The sound of a locomotive's whistle going off startled me from my boredom and I flinched, nearly falling from Dad's lap. He yelped, scooping me up and tugging me properly into his lap. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yes…?" I looked around and saw the puffing train coming down the tracks that we were facing. Dad's train?

"See it?" he asked. "It's big, isn't it?" I nodded and glanced at him.

"Your train?" Of course, even though I was advanced I still lisped a bit here and there thanks to less-than-developed vocal chords. I had troubles with odd switches of sounds, including the 'R' sound. It came out more 'twain' instead of 'train'. The letter 'R' just didn't like me for the most part. Same for the letter 'L'. 'L's played hide and seek with my vocabulary depending on where they were located in words.

Don't ask me to say 'ridiculous'. There's about two 'W's in there that shouldn't be and I'm missing an 'R' and an 'L'. It's very… widicuwous. And worthy of many cheek pinches.

"Yes, Xiao-Hua," he returned. "The train I'll be going on." I sighed and he smiled sadly at me. "I won't be gone forever." I grumbled, incapable of giving a decent response. Even if it wasn't 'forever', it was still a good chunk of my current life. A day was categorically _long_ for a two-year-old. And in only a few months I'd become three, coinciding with his first return trip. For a three-year-old, a year was a third of a life. A month was a thirty-sixth of that life. I wasn't even fully three yet.

Despite the train being there, he didn't immediately get up and leave. He did sit with me and be with me as long as he could and it occurred to me that I wasn't the only one that would have difficulties being separated.

And then that moment came. The moment in which I _had_ to let him go. I was given over to my grandmother and I cried as I lost my grip on him. He looked upset but there was a set to his jaw that screamed he was going to do it whether or not he or I liked it. He'd done that same move whenever he'd spanked me for being precocious and unsafe. I knew he'd follow through. I still begged and cried and pleaded for him to just not leave me.

He did after pressing a kiss to my forehead. I sobbed and fought against arms that wouldn't let me go. "I love you, Xiao-Hua," he told me as I clenched fingers into his shirt.

"Daddy!" I begged, incapable of stopping my ill behavior. I knew I was behaving awful. I knew that. And I sobbed out 'daddy' over and over before begging again. "Please don't!" It probably was a harder blow considering the lisp. "Please don't go!"

"I've got the pictures and I've got Horsey," he soothed, tears clearly streaming at my words. "I promise, baby girl, that I won't leave forever. I promise." I couldn't help but fear that. There had been _no mention_ of a child. There was nothing to say he'd _ever_ come back.

He disengaged my fingers despite my pleas and I knew more than a few people looked disapproving at my wails. I didn't care in any way, shape, or form. My daddy was _leaving_.

"I love you," he told me one final time. "Be good for your Grandma and Grandpa." He looked at them worriedly.

"Go on, Roy. We've got her," assured Grandma.

"Just come back safe… and in time for her birthday."

"Right." He smiled at me, pain in his eyes. One final kiss as I cried. And then he was climbing aboard the train and I lost sight of him as I was hugged against Grandma's chest.

"It'll be okay, Dawnie," she soothed. "It'll be okay."

"He'll be home soon," promised Grandpa, touching at my cheek. I just sobbed, wearing myself out more and more even as I fought to stay awake. But delirium would set in and I lost track of time, missing the departure of the train in the midst of my tears.

I had missed him going. Transferred into Grandpa's arms, I sniffed and hiccupped.

"She's wearing out," he murmured conversationally to Grandma. She hummed, stroking my back.

"Let's go home."

-/-/-/-

Thank you for reading. **Please review.**


	4. In Which There Are Phone Calls

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Reviews: Thank you again for all your lovely reviews. I haven't been writing as quickly on this fic as I probably should, but I absolutely love all of the reviews.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 4: In Which There Are Phone Calls

.

When we had returned to Grandma's house, I was listless and tired and was tucked into bed with a blanket smelling of my father tucked about me. Needless to say, I crashed.

Sometime later, I woke and stumbled out, clinging to the corner of the blanket and looking for someone. Sleep still clung to me and for whatever reason I just didn't want to let go of the blanket. It followed me down the stairs and I found Grandma there sewing only to stop when she saw me. "Hey, sweetie," she cooed, calling to me. "Did you have a good nap?" I nodded drowsily before toddling over. She dragged me up onto her lap and checked me over, noting that I needed a change. "That's good."

"Daddy?" I asked, rubbing at my eyes. I was asking if he was on his way home, of course, the recent events not currently registering in my mind. She sighed.

"He's not going to be coming back for a while, Dawn." I froze. And then it all rushed back. Dad had gone to his teacher. He had left. Fear shot through me again and I whined only to be cuddled by my grandmother. She whispered and soothed at me, murmuring comforts. "I know, I know. But you'll be okay." I whimpered, clinging to her and felt her draw the blanket up around me. The smell of 'daddy' invaded my nose and only made it harder for me to think about him being _gone_. "He'll be back."

But he wouldn't be back. Not anytime soon. And I knew beyond all doubts that the longest part of my life had just begun.

.

I grew adjusted over time. The first few days were the hardest and each evening I'd found myself looking instinctively to the door and waiting for Dad to appear. I'd sit for _hours_ , watching an unmoving panel. When it did move, it'd open to reveal Grandpa or some door-to-door salesman that Grandma spoke to. For a two-year-old, it was heartbreaking.

Horsey gained a substitute, the blanket that still smelled like Dad. I hardly dared to let it go, carrying it to meals, playtime, the little lessons Grandma and Grandpa gave me, on every outing, and quite a few things in between. I was also introduced to other children my age, all of them not very interesting and I could think far past any of them. My disinterest must have been obvious because the other little girls and boys I was around slowly stopped including me. That broke my grandmother's heart because she'd specifically looked about to join up on playdates. The mothers that had been there had all said I was an odd child. I liked to draw and read, I liked to spend time learning new things from books rather than the ways that babies learned because, in a sense, I'd already learned much of what they had already learned in my past life. It was just basic information, data that created the entire operating system I functioned on and was so 'buried' in the system that it was almost irrelevant.

A playdate at the park had seen me more acutely staring at tiny flowers and mentally dissecting them than playing in the sandbox not too far away as the other two children I'd interacted with messed about in the box. The rest of the time had been spent drawing circles in the sand or braiding blades of grass while I watched the pair play. I had, however, given over the grass crown I'd woven to the girl and got an amazed grin in return. Her friend, the boy, got mad that I'd given her the grass and broke it not a minute later after fighting to get it.

There were only two crying toddlers at the end as I sat there with a scowl on my face. All that hard work ruined because of a spat of jealousy.

.

"Dawn!" I was busy doodling across paper, sprawled on my blanket, and trying to make art that was marginally coherent. "Come here!" With a sigh, I sat up. The phone had gone off a little while ago and I guessed that Grandma had finished with whoever she was talking to. It was close enough to lunch and that was likely what she was calling me for.

I did not expect her to be smiling brightly as she stood with the receiver in her hands and blinked in confusion as I paused to watch her. She gestured to me with another urgent 'come here' and I toddled the rest of the way forward only to find her crouching down to press the receiver against my ear.

"Talk for Daddy," she encouraged. My eyes widened as clarity came over me.

" _Xiao-Hua?"_ It was his voice turned tinny over the phone line and dim compared to how he normally sounded. _"Xiao-Hua, it's me."_

"Daddy?" I croaked, far too aware of the tears now in my eyes and the sudden thickness in my throat. Grandma smiled at me, still holding the phone to my ear. She looked as emotional as I felt, no doubt prodded by my own reactions. On the phone, I heard an explosive sigh that just sounded with relief.

" _Yes, Xiao-Hua. It's me. It's Daddy."_ I was fighting to not bawl outright but my distress became vocal as my breath shuddered and tears fell from my eyes. _"I miss you."_

"Daddy!" I sobbed, earning a semi-amused look from the older woman before me, her eyes shining with tears even as her smile showed a little of her amusement.

" _Hey, hey… You don't need to cry,"_ he chided gently though he, too, sounded emotional. _"Or are you missing Horsey more than you miss me?"_

"I miss _you_!" He chuckled, though the emotion hadn't left his voice.

" _Your pronunciations are getting better,"_ Dad observed. Considering I wasn't lisping too much at the 'miss', he was right. _"Grandma's teaching you a lot, isn't she?"_ I nodded, forgetting he couldn't see me.

"You have to speak, Dawn," Grandma chided gently. "He can't see you." I spoke out loud.

"Yes."

"' _Yes' what?"_ he needled.

"Yes, sir," I returned dutifully. "Gramma help me talk." I internally grimaced at the pronunciation.

" _That's 'Grandma_ helps _me talk',"_ he gently corrected. _"But I'm glad she's teaching you. We're both learning important things now and we'll have a lot to show each other when I come back."_ That heartened me a lot. He'd not forgotten me… yet. _"Would you like to hear a little about some of my lessons?"_

"Yes, sir," I whispered. And so he began to talk, describing what his master was like and saying he had lots of books to study, far more than the ones he'd had here at home. Dad confided hurriedly that he preferred being with me, of course, but that the Hawk man's library would help him in learning what the man taught. I allowed the words to wash over me as he described a few of his lessons, keeping the technical details down so I could follow along. He sometimes asked me questions, easy ones, but sounded so pleased when I answered correctly and corrected me if I answered wrong without any harshness. "You come home soon?" I asked worriedly, cutting into his tale. He paused, halting his words.

" _I will have a short trip coming soon,"_ he admitted. _"But just a week. Do you remember how long a week is?"_

"Seven days," I murmured.

" _Yes. That's correct,"_ he sighed. _"But I can't come too much or else Master won't be tolerant. He wouldn't teach me anymore if I just came home too much and I need to learn so I can take care of you better."_ It was the usual words, of course, but it didn't make me feel any better. _"And you know I'll come back for your birthday, right?"_

"Yes." He heard the forlorn note in my voice. It was obvious because there was a long pause.

" _Dawn,"_ he said, forgoing my nickname he had bestowed. _"I want you to listen to me. Are you?"_ I nodded with another 'yes' on my lips. _"I don't like being away from you. Just like you don't like being away from me. But I will come home for short breaks before coming home once and for all once the training is done. Do you understand?"_

"Yes," I said quietly, gaze more focused on Grandma's knees than anything. Her hand rested on my arm as she watched me.

" _I love you,"_ he said through the line. I looked up at my grandmother.

"I love you." The conversation was clearly going to come to a close. I didn't want it to but he couldn't stay on the phone forever.

" _You be good for your grandma and grandpa, alright? I'm counting on you to do your best while I'm away just like I'm doing my best."_ I nodded and hiccupped. _"Now, I need to talk to your grandma some more. Can you tell her for me?"_ I nodded.

"Daddy wants to talk," I offered with a vague gesture at the crouching woman. She nodded and pulled the handset away.

"Yes, Roy?" she said the moment it was pressed to her ear. "Ah-huh. Yes, she has been pretty good though a little withdrawn." She paused, listening. "It's not bad. Children go through phases and she's fairly mature for her age all considered but she _is_ only two." Another pause, this one longer. It sounded like the other end rang with worry and immediately Grandma scoffed. "Don't you _dare_ think about it, Roy Mustang," she scolded. "If your idea of becoming better involves this, then you will see it through. Dawn is _fine_." My father spoke again and the older woman sighed, shaking her head in obvious exasperation. "You knucklehead." I blinked. What had he said to get that kind of response? "It's not like she's going to be without you forever. It might feel like it, for you and for her, but just focus on your studies." The sound of defeat was obvious to me and I frowned, trying to puzzle out what was being said. Still, I was left out at this point and reaching didn't get anything other than her patting at my head before she hung up the phone and scooped me right up. The kisses she littered on me were nice enough but unsatisfactory as I peered back at the phone. "He's going to be back soon enough, baby girl," she assured in a light tone. "Don't you worry."

But it was practically required that I worry. My father was a long way away… and he'd have to go further before he could rest. Anyone prominently featured in a story had important things to do even if it was to die in a particular way. And Dad was one of them. He'd have to join the military. He'd be pulled to it. He'd have to be in a certain position…

And I couldn't do anything as the unheard-of child.

' _But I can support him,'_ I thought determinedly. _'I can help however I can.'_

.

Dad's first trip home was wonderful, and I think I kind of glued myself to him. He couldn't do much of anything without a girl-shaped leech sticking close. I wrapped my arms around his leg and rode his foot, which earned a few amused looks from my grandparents and more than a few exasperated noises from Dad. I sat in his lap every time he sat down. I insisted on sitting _right next to him_ if I wasn't allowed in his lap. I slept in the same bed he did.

Not that he really objected, cuddling me at every turn and not doing much more than helping Grandma during the day and occupying me. I wasn't objecting, either, and laughed more in twenty-four hours than I had in a long while.

I also got to sit and read with him, two or three hours at a time filled with words about alchemy. He also transmuted me a toy, using a chunk of wood from the fireplace, and it wasn't anything particularly special except it had come from him. It had the shape of a cat and was very stylized to keep it from breaking easily. It was more like a ball with pointy ears atop an egg-shaped body with raised areas to indicate legs and tail. We even painted it together, coloring it like a gray tabby with brown stripes with some leftover paint that had long ago been more-or-less discarded.

To say I was spoiled during the time I had him was probably an understatement because I definitely behaved the entire time. And he didn't carry on about his alchemy training sans what I saw firsthand. It was about me and my grandparents. It was about making sure that I knew I was still loved. Certainly I only got him for five and a half days, the train ride taking the morning and the train ride back coming early enough the final day, but I was there with him the entire time.

On that final morning, he and I cuddled in bed and both of us were unwilling to get up as he toyed with my hair and my head was on his chest. "I'm going back today," he told me. My fingers tightened in his pajama shirt, ear against his heart. "But I'll be back in time for your birthday. Don't worry about that, Xiao-Hua."

I looked at him, lifting my head to do so and dislodging his hand. "Stay?" I begged. He gave me an aggrieved look and sighed. He ran a thumb over my cheek, the hand as a whole cupping nearly half my head, and smiled sadly.

"Once the training is over, I can," he returned. "I'm learning a lot. And it'll be good for us. I'll no longer have to rely financially on Aunt Chris or Sarah to make sure we can get by."

I sighed, dropping my head against his chest again. He didn't know that I did understand but I couldn't help myself in begging him to stay. It was also only natural and, even if I was a 'surprisingly mature' child, I had to at least be honest and I didn't like being separated from my father.

"Roy! Roy? You need to get up!" called Grandma from downstairs, the door to my room open. Well, it wasn't originally my room. It was my mother's old bedroom. I got it, though, as my permanent room in Grandma's house along with many of the things left behind by the dead teenage girl. It was somewhat depressing if one put it into perspective but I didn't think about it too much. The fact that I had some of her things was meaningful even if I couldn't express it right now.

Dad groaned, not really wanting to go even if he said he had to. He was growing up much too fast, all considered, and I knew that the responsibilities of an adult ate at him. He _wanted_ to be responsible, which made it all the worse.

Still, he got up. He unseated me, making sure I didn't fall, and then proceeded to redress me into daytime clothes. He put me in yet another dress, this one a royal blue with simple white lace, and did my hair and all the important things that a parent would do for their child. The things that marked out a good parent from the rest. I then watched as he redressed as I cradled Horsey for a bit more, Dad having brought the toy home with him.

He saw me holding the horse. "Do you want to keep him?" he asked. That had me thrusting it into his arms and he chuckled. "You're a brilliant little girl, you know that?" teased the young man as he gently petted the hair that he'd tied into twin pigtails.

"Yes," I grinned cheekily though I knew he'd leave soon enough. He grinned and gathered me up, hugging me close. Horsey was pressed between us.

"Don't lose your sweetness, Xiao-Hua, and wait for me? I'll come back for your birthday, spend a week with you again. Okay?"

"Okay," I repeated, nuzzling my face into his shirt.

"Good." He set me down in time to hear fussing from downstairs again. "I'm coming, Sarah!" he called back.

"Better be, boy! I will not be carting you off to New Optain myself!"

"That woman is churlish," Dad grumped as he picked up his suitcase. "Come on. Let's get some breakfast into you."

He drew me downstairs and I sat in my chair right next to him. We both ate, Grandma sitting with us, and then it was time for him to go.

"You be good for your Grandma and Grandpa," he reminded me. It took me a long moment to understand why he was saying these things _here_. I wasn't going to see him off on the train and that was a handful of precious minutes that I'd not have with him. Baby instincts, still there even if I didn't acknowledge them too much, did not like that and tears sprang to my eyes. I whined but it didn't affect Dad too much. Or, if it did, he had already steeled himself against my reactions. "Be good," he insisted.

"She will be, Roy. Just go ahead and go on," Grandma insisted.

And with one final kiss and one glance back as he moved for the door, he did. It clicked shut behind him and I just stared at it, part of me hoping it would open.

.

When the door did open again, it was to admit Grandpa and he didn't get an audience as I was too busy sulking. He peered at me before going to Grandma who was busy sewing as I sat in my spot and continued my lovely attitude problem. "Evening," he called to his wife, garnering her attention. She smiled slightly though it turned a touch strained after a glance at me before looking back at him. "I take it someone's angry she got left again?" Grandpa had been gone when Dad and I had gotten up, already at work.

"Of course," sighed Grandma, settling her sewing into her lap. "She's been unresponsive all day and it's been a chore to get her to eat anything and she refused to go down properly for a nap." She paused before offering, "She slept right on the first step of the staircase."

"As stubborn as her mother, wouldn't you say?" Grandpa said laconically before turning away, avoiding the panged expression on Grandma's face. "And as stubborn as her grandpa, I bet, too."

"You're not her kind of stubborn," disagreed Grandma as Grandpa crouched before me. I watched him.

"I've not got this one's temper," smiled Grandpa, his eyes not leaving me. "Come on over here, Dawn. I bet it's not comfortable in that corner. I want to show you something, too." I stared, uncertain. "Come on," he insisted, holding out his hand. "There's something I want to show you."

Grandpa was more lenient and laid-back than Grandma. Grandma was temperamental and could hold a quick, hot grudge if she wanted to. Grandpa was more like a rock that weathered his wife's temperamental ways. He also knew how to handle other temperamental people, me included. And he was a symbol of 'safe' and 'comfort'.

I went to him and he scooped me up bodily. His comforting scent pervaded my nose, calming some of the lingering upset that I had clung to. His scratchy cheek brushed against my temple, something uncomfortable as he readjusted me in his grip but I didn't dare disagree. And then he went walking through the house.

"Where are you two going?"

"Come along and find out," he returned, his voice loud in my ear. I blinked.

The destination was soon obvious as we went into the bathroom and I found my feet perched right on the edge of the sink, my face pointed to the mirror. Grandma stood in the doorway, puzzled, as I observed my features once again. It was instinct to reassess who I was now, taking in gray-brown eyes and brown hair. I still had chubby features, evidence of the fact I was a baby, and tilted eyes that were more open than my father's though that might still be because I was a baby. Grandpa's hands were gripping my torso and appeared large in comparison to my ribcage. The dress I wore rumpled under his fingers though it was rumpled also from wearing it all day.

"Who is that?" he asked, peering over my shoulder at the reflection. My gaze went to him, taking in his solid and familiar features. The lines of worry were beginning to etch their way along his face, revealing his worries. He was looking at me in the mirror and our eyes met, one set belonging to a juvenile that looked utterly put-out and sad and the other set belonging to a man who seemed a bit sad as well but not in the same way. "Who is that in the mirror?" he asked.

"You an' me," I murmured.

"Yes," he agreed, a flicker of pleasure on his face. Pride. He was proud of me, of my development. "And do you know what I see when I look at you?" I looked at my face, puzzled. "I see someone that is very loved." I realized this was about to devolve into something sappy. "Loved by her grandma and her grandpa. Loved by her daddy. And loved by her mother. I also see lots of things that remind me of your father and your mother, of me and your grandma. You're all bits of things we love and hold dear… and even a few things we don't like but are okay with because we love you." Yep, sappy.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and I don't think I completely succeeded because he nudged me in the cheek with one finger.

"This person right here is someone your daddy will come back for. You can bet he thinks about you every day just like you think about _him_ every day. And you think it's hard for you to be alone? It's harder for him."

I looked at him, considering him quietly. "Why?" The question came out before I could stop it.

"Because you have us. He doesn't have anyone there with him in the same way we're with you."

I whimpered and he wrapped me in his arms, drawing me against his chest as emotion roiled through my body. We then left the bathroom, Grandma smiling sadly, and I clung to my Grandpa as I continued to let go sounds of discontent.

Grandpa took charge of making sure I ate and putting me to bed, choosing to put me in the bed he and Grandma shared in the night. I had always been relatively good at keeping out of their bed but I didn't protest it that night. It was safe being cuddled between them and it didn't take long for me to pass out from exhaustion.

.

It felt like forever to get towards my birthday. The world thawed from the winter that had dominated it, my own occupation with other children getting a bit better. Not that I overly liked the playdates even now but I tried very hard to interact. Part of me wanted the interaction of my peers even if I felt them simplistic and foolish. But _they_ were babies. I wasn't. Well, I wasn't _strictly_ a baby in the traditional sense. I was still two, nearly three.

There were a few children near enough my age that I somewhat liked. I knew their names. There was Ellie Grant, a pretty blonde girl with light brown eyes that liked to laugh and play with dolls. She also had a year-older brother named John and would discard her doll to play with him. He was fascinated with climbing, always scaling something to get a better vantage point and tended to exasperate his mother a great deal. Their father was a military man and was often busy doing guard duty or so I'd overheard from their mother. They had a year-old baby brother, named Richard. All were some variant of blonde with brown eyes. I looked very odd compared to them.

Actually, a vast majority of people in this country were peach-skinned with blonde or brown hair and pale-colored eyes were common though there were brown eyes, too. I was unusual and it had been actually a starting point in relations with the Grants when Johnny made a comment during one of the many playdates my grandmother arranged with other children. He also was nice enough to teach me and his sister how to find handholds.

My grandmother had been less than pleased to see me digging fingers into a thick tree with one foot planted against the bark and the other lifting to go up further. Ellie had not quite gotten the idea down yet but that hadn't mattered because I was suddenly pulled off the tree and being scolded.

Because I'd interacted reasonably well with the two others and Grandma liked Mrs. Grant, I got to play with them again… just outside the range of trees.

This hadn't at all perturbed Johnny because he showed me how to climb other things, including the cabinets to get to treats that _should_ have been out of reach. Ellie, set on lookout, had enjoyed the fruits of our labors quite a bit.

"Why are you drawing circles?" The question startled me and I looked up at Johnny who, unlike his sister, could understand when I talked for the most part. Well, so long as I didn't talk too complicated, he could. We were all coloring at the moment and I'd fallen to practicing because the actual coloring was a bit boring.

I shrugged. "Fun," I admitted. He wrinkled his nose, not understanding but tried to draw his own circle. It came out lopsided and the ends didn't meet. "Daddy draws circles a lot."

Ellie was busy humming as she colored one of her various drawings, kicking her feet as she lay on her belly on the floor. Johnny drew another circle. I watched as it grew egg-shaped. "Where is your daddy?" asked Johnny, looking up. This garnered Ellie's attention and she blinked at them. I looked at the paper.

"He's… studying," I said slowly.

"What 'studying'?" asked Ellie. John looked confused, too.

"When someone takes time… learning how to do something," I tried to say carefully. "Daddy is studying alchemy. Daddy wants to be an alchemist."

"What's al-che-my?" John asked, carefully sounding the word out. I looked at the paper before turning it over and then drew out the circle I'd so long practiced before gently inscribing the square with a care that left it nigh perfect.

"Daddy uses this to make things happen," I explained, finishing the circle. "He fixes Gramma's pots and makes me toys." Both looked impressed. "It's called alchemy. It's… science."

"Sci-ence?" I nodded, taking a new color and coloring in the blank spaces. Both frowned at the lack of answer but soon, like most children, they lost interest when other things drew their attention. Most of our conversations went like this. I usually explained myself and just went unresponsive after. Looking at John and Ellie and Richard made me wish I had a sibling. But I couldn't interact like a normal child with other children. I don't think I could have managed anything remotely normal with a sibling.

"How are you kids doing?" asked Grandma, coming over to check on us. She and Mrs. Grant (and Richard) had gone off to the kitchen to make some lunch. Her open face twitched into surprise when she looked down to where she no doubt saw my drawn transmutation circle even though I was filling it in. "Johnny? Ellie? Go and get some lunch." Both lit up with delight and immediately abandoned their colors to do as told. I stood, also, but didn't leave. I watched her. "Do you know what that is?" she asked, pointing at the circle.

"Yes, Gramma," I replied quietly.

"What is it?" She looked downright worried.

"Daddy's trans…" I paused, frowned. "Trans-mu-ta-tion circle," I slowly enunciated.

"Dawn, listen. Do _not_ try to use that." I looked at her warily. "I know your daddy's been teaching you your letters through alchemy books. I know you're smart. Do _not_ try alchemy."

I eyed her carefully before replying, "Yes, Gramma." She didn't relax but she seemed willing to let it lie for the moment.

"Come on. Time for lunch." I knew it was not the end of the conversation.

.

I'd officially labeled my wooden cat 'Minnie'. For whatever reason, I had remembered a half-faded story that had featured a woman named Minerva that had turned into a tabby cat. I also remembered a mouse in a dress named 'Minnie'. I had preferred the cat.

Grandma taught me from more acceptable books, teaching me 'A' is for 'apple' and 'B' is for 'box'. Banana probably wasn't something that had ever been really tasted in this country so the curved yellow fruit hadn't made the pages. She encouraged me to read and to count and did everything she could to keep me out of the alchemy texts that my father had read me.

She also told my father over the phone that if he _ever_ taught me out of an alchemy book again before the age of ten, she'd spank him. She also explained I'd drawn a proper transmutation circle and that I'd tried reading the books he'd left in the house. The books had been moved high up and hidden atop the bookcase well out of my range. I was of the opinion that I could get them using John's lessons but I'd have to do it when I knew that Grandma was occupied.

I then decided that it was _not_ going to be something I was about to get in trouble over. After all, I could get ahold of them when living with my dad so… it was easier to let it slide for now.

I also knew that Dad had not really been thrilled that he'd been commanded to keep alchemy out of my hands until I was so much older and had haggled with my grandmother for some lower number or something but I'd not paid too much attention.

As every other time he called, I did talk to him and spent some of that time discussing a bit of what he was learning and what I was learning and how he was proud of me. He also asked me various question, testing my language, vocabulary, rudimentary math skills, and logic. I answered well enough, earning positive sounds from him each time, before he would ask to speak to my grandmother and let me go.

That was the way of things, a small bit to ease some of the pain we both felt.

My grandparents taught me the concept of calendars in this time, too, though I already understood them. As such, I had a calendar that I marked off for each day my daddy was gone. It was dutiful, what I did every morning before going to breakfast. My grandparents had been both amused and impressed that I understood the concept of time without too much prompting. I found it funny because I'd once considered time in various forms before deciding that it really was one contiguous piece and that humans, who wished to have mastery over everything they touched, sectioned it into little pieces to make it more manageable. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, and so on… It was all merely a way to manage the understanding of time.

And I knew that I couldn't quite explain it to an adult because it should be a concept beyond a child and it would likely be a concept beyond them. Two and two equaled four. And it would remain that way until someone made a very good case as to why it should be changed. Sadly enough, that was yet another philosophical point. One that I couldn't explain or bring another around to the point of understanding.

During the days, I split her time between playing, reading, helping with simple chores, and trying like mad to stave off boredom. There were days where I got to play with the Grants and I liked those days, too. If anyone commented how I was odd, it was usually played off by my grandparents that I missed my father or that I was intelligent.

Above all else, I waited for the days he'd call. We didn't call him, not wanting to interrupt his studies unless _absolutely_ necessary though I knew Grandma knew the number he called from. She had also not left it anywhere I could get to it, probably correctly assuming that I'd attempt to dial my father. And that _was_ 'dial'. I adored the 'antique' rotary-style phones common to this world and time, aware of the fact that party lines were, indeed, prevalent. We shared our line with the next door neighbors and sometimes there would be a call Grandma would get that was supposed to be for the other house and sometimes the reverse happened. Sometimes she'd pick up the phone and could listen in on the conversation on the line. Businesses commonly bought their own individual lines, Aunt Chris's shop among them, but houses often shared the cost of a line unless they were wealthy.

And when he did call, I would devote my entire attention to his words.

" _Xiao-Hua, you've been good, right?"_

"Yes, Daddy," I told him softly, holding the largish receiver to my face. Grandma had long ago made me start holding the phone, knowing that I did understand how to hang it back up.

" _Not driving your grandma and grandpa up the wall, have you?"_

"No. When you coming home?" That was a favorite question.

" _Not for a while yet,"_ he sighed, sounding like he missed me as much as I missed him. _"I've got more to learn than I thought I ever would need to learn. It's far more complicated than I thought. You know what 'complicated' means, right?"_

"Hard."

" _Not quite but close enough."_ I smiled at the affirmation. _"Horsey's not left his spot next to my bed since I came here,"_ he advised me. _"Still safe, Xiao-Hua. I appreciate having him here with me when you can't be."_ My heart swelled a little at that. _"You know what 'appreciate' means?"_

"Yes. Like saying 'thank you'." He laughed.

" _Say it for me, then?"_

"Ap-pre-ci-ate," I told him carefully, ensuring that I didn't mess up. My language skills were growing at a nigh-exponential rate as I neared three. He congratulated me and I burrowed slightly into the chair Grandma had set near the phone for times like this. "What's your teacher like?" There was a pause, no doubt an effort to sensor his words, but he did speak.

" _He's very smart. Smarter than you and I combined."_

"Does he have a big head with so much smarts?" I asked wonderingly, knowing that that wasn't a reality. He laughed again.

" _No. He's got a normal head. But he's very smart. He's making a special kind of alchemy right now and says I'll be able to learn it once he completes it and says I'm ready. While he isn't doing that, though, he's teaching me everything from the basics I knew to more complicated things."_

"Really?" He hummed. It was interesting to listen to him talk more about his teacher rather than strictly about his studies. He'd not spoken much about anything other than the alchemy and the town before.

" _He's got a daughter."_

The news surprised me. "Like me?"

" _No, not like you. She's not got dark hair like you do. Her name is Riza."_ It made me twitch. Riza Hawkeye. Guns. I swallowed and tried to keep my tone light.

"What's she like?"

" _Very nice. And she's a pretty good cook, too. I know she thinks you're cute because I showed her your picture."_

"You did?" I asked, a little surprised but not at the same time. Dad was proud. He'd of course flaunt my picture.

" _Mmhm."_

"You think I would like _her_?"

" _Yes. I think so."_

"Do _you_ like her?" I asked carefully. It incited a pause.

" _Yes,"_ he said finally.

"More than me?" Grandma, who had been passing through to check on me, paused at my words. I was too focused upon the phone to really note her, though.

" _No, Xiao-Hua. Not more than you."_ That didn't really soothe me. The image of guns backing fire was nearly metaphorical… but I knew my father would be the Flame and that the woman known as Riza Hawkeye was synonymous with guns. _"You'll always be my number one lady."_ I smiled, finding his words a bit silly.

"When you coming home?"

" _Not sure when yet,"_ he admitted. _"But I'll definitely come home for your birthday."_

"Okay."

" _Now, I need to go. You keep being good for your grandma and grandpa."_

"Yes, Daddy," I responded and then moved to put the phone on the cradle.

"Dawn?" I turned, taking in the older woman who looked curious. She also looked like she didn't quite want that curiosity satisfied. "Who did you ask after, Dawn?" she asked. It was obvious what she was hinting at.

"There's a girl that Daddy met," I explained carefully, choosing my words. "Daddy likes her." I paused at the look of pain on my grandmother's face. "But not more than me."

"What about more than your mommy, then?" asked Grandma. I considered that, thinking of what I knew about 'Fullmetal Alchemist'. I also thought I remembered something of this Riza Hawkeye's face. Blonde, denoted as pretty, and a sharp shot. Severe but not cruel. Hardened. Loyal. Always behind the face that belonged to my now-father. A hint of something more lingering in the background. However, I knew the answer to Grandma's question.

"No. Not more than Mommy." I couldn't quite explain it to the woman. I was aware of how love behaved. Just because Dad had clearly begun falling for Riza Hawkeye by the inflections in his voice and his own admissions didn't mean that he would ever love Abbigail Edgecombe less. "And… I think Mommy would be happy." Grandma seemed surprised at that. "Because she didn't want him to be alone. That's why I'm with Daddy. So he won't be alone."

The profoundness of my 'from the mouth of babes' babble caused my grandmother to withdraw slightly. I knew how love functioned. I was the product of love, thankfully.

But this was a new love and I had a feeling that it would either be a huge change of events that permitted Dad and this new woman to be together for I remembered blue uniforms… or there would be no change and I'd be at least a teenager before they ever got around to being more. Either way was a situation I'd never been in before.

The rest of that day, I was fairly introspective as I built castles out of wooden blocks and rearranged them to soothe my nervousness. Grandma didn't really interfere other than to make me take breaks for food or a nap.

.

The rumble of my grandfather's voice was comforting and I listened as he read from a 'boring' book full of words rather than pictures as I sat on his knee. Every now and again, he'd give me a spoonful of coffee that had been cooled from piping hot and I enjoyed the practice. It was a Saturday morning and a relatively lazy one. It was also a traditional Saturday now for us. Grandpa would read and give me coffee, ensure I ate, and tested my own reading abilities while simultaneously teaching me what words meant. Not that I didn't know what the words meant but it was a good morning.

The story was somewhere between fantasy and history. It was about Xerxes, the lost country to the east where a desert now stood. Much of the literature from that place four hundred plus years ago was still available though somewhat stylized through myth and legend. It was like the tragedy of the HMS Titanic had gotten an additional spin of alchemy and a king. Only, unlike the HMS Titanic, Xerxes had vanished in a night due to some kind of alchemy accident… or so it was rumored. The Titanic's tragedy was of a combination of poor decisions and circumvented engineering with a result that had been known throughout the world. Xerxes had the same sort of feeling. A race of people turned golden by the sun, a wise king, and some horrible accident. Perhaps it was more like Atlantis than the Titanic but the relative recentness had drawn the doomed ship to mind sooner.

Grandpa was a pretty good storyteller, probably because he had practice with a previous little girl. Often, he'd read while Grandma sewed in her chair. His voice was smooth, filling my ears and engaging my attention far easier than it should be. Then again, I'd always been a sucker for a good story.

"Barty." He paused, looking over to Grandma.

"Yes, Sarah?" She had a funny look on her face as I looked up. He must have seen it, too. "Something wrong?"

"No, no… Not exactly." Her expression turned wistful and I could see inside her in a flash. She'd made the parallel, too, it seemed. "You're a pretty good grandpa," she admitted. There was a soft snort, similar to laughter, and I looked up at my amused grandfather.

"I'm still a little young to be one," he countered.

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Thanks for reading. **Please review.**


	5. In Which There Are Birthdays

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

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Chapter 5: In Which There Are Birthdays

.

One evening I came home after a playdate with the Grants. Richard was a little more aware and to me he was fascinating because I'd been that size once and about that mobile. Johnny had turned a year older a few days before and I'd been allowed to the party. It had been a good party even if I'd not been too thrilled with the other children. I even got to play 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey' and a variety of other simplistic games that often saw their way into children's parties.

Today, I'd returned after playing with Johnny and Ellie and saw to my surprise that Grandpa's coat was hung up in the hall on its usual hook. I blinked at the other jacket hung next to it, trying to place it as Grandma stripped me of my jacket. She seemed a bit more cheerful than usual, which wasn't very polite to say about her, but I wondered why she was nearly bouncing with excitement even as I compliantly pulled off my shoes at her urging.

"Glad to be home?" she asked. I shrugged.

"It's nice," I offered. "I'm hungry." My third year was fast approaching so, of course, I could get away with better vocabulary and greater rationalization.

"Alright," she smiled.

"Why's Grandpa home?"

"I don't know. Why don't you go find him?" That was entirely too leading and I frowned before going to do as told. I wanted to know and Grandma was acting weird and no one had said _anything_ about Dad returning in time for my birthday. It was the perfect combination to make a moody child.

I stopped upon entering the living area, shock going through me. Grandpa was there in his usual chair, sure enough, but it was the other person in the room that had me stopping as my mind whirled. Just as he properly looked at me, I was bouncing into motion and running right at him with the happy shriek of, "Daddy!"

Delight showed on his face as he scooped me up onto the couch next to him only to find me relocated into his lap as he hugged me tightly. "Hello, Xiao-Hua," he murmured, pressing kisses onto my hair and forehead. A lot of them. And not once did he let me go. I didn't care. I was in heaven, burrowing as close as physically possible and trying for another centimeter just to see if I could. From my mouth came perhaps the most excited and lengthy babble that I wasn't entirely coherent of what I was saying but from the amused look on his face, my dad was enjoying it.

And then he gave me a hug so tight that my breath and babble were cut off, the pain of the hold making me gasp just a touch, and I felt a sudden reassurance that he had indeed missed me. That he hadn't forgotten me. That he still loved me.

It sometimes required reassurance, I guess, but the truth of it remained: Daddy loved me and he was _here_ with me.

His grip slowly loosened and he shifted. Had I paid attention to the world outside the two of us, I'd have seen the looks of happiness on my grandparent's faces and the hand pressed over my grandmother's mouth as she fought against tears. But I didn't and I merely grinned up at him, happy in his lap.

"I take it you're surprised?" he asked cheerily.

"Lots and lots!" I grinned back. He chuckled of course, smile so wide that it looked like his cheeks might start hurting. I'd made him happy, barreling for him and clinging close. Perhaps he'd needed reassurance, too, that I actually loved him still and that I remembered him.

There was a sound that had me turning and I realized that Grandpa had a camera. He didn't look particularly upset at being caught out, just like Grandma didn't look too perturbed that I'd caught her nearly crying.

"Good afternoon, Sarah," greeted Dad. "Thanks for helping with the surprise."

"No problem, Roy," she returned, coming over to sit next to us and hug him sideways. He leaned into the contact and dragged me along with. There was another snap, Grandpa once again being handy with the camera, and the moment was forever immortalized.

Of course, then there was dinner and I only sat in my chair because Dad was right there next to me. As talk progressed around me and often including me, I learned he'd arrived earlier in the day and that Grandpa had gone to get him, taking off from work to make sure that it was a completely hidden surprise. Everyone (which equated to Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa) had been in on it and of course I'd reacted exactly as they'd hoped: with lots of excitement, full-tilt running, and prompt hugs.

Even now, my mood couldn't be dimmed. I was grinning around every bite, chattering without a care to whether or not I was listened to, chastised for speaking with my mouth full, and always within reaching distance of my father. I had been told he'd return for my birthday and now I had proof. He had come home! It didn't matter if there were no other presents. He'd come _home_.

.

The brush used on my hair was made of a wooden paddle and horsehair. The bristles were soft, necessary considering the fineness of my hair even if there was plenty of it. I sat, fidgeting every so often, as Dad ran the brush through my hair. "It's gotten quite a bit longer," he noted. I hummed, feeling sleepy. The excitement had ebbed away some and it dragged me with it. His gentle fingers were familiar and soothing. Perhaps if my mother lived, he'd have given over such duties to her. However, he was 'man enough' to brush my hair and tie my shoes and do all the things a mother would do. Then again, I was the legacy of my mother. I was the proof she'd been real more than the photographs on the mantle. And he relished contact with me.

But he was also beginning to move on.

For my current life, a year felt like a very long time. For a teenager like Dad, a year was quite a bit shorter but still long. Three years, nearly four if I counted the time I'd been within my mother, was a long time for a teenager. Dad was only eighteen. Four years was very nearly a quarter of his life. If I was honest with myself, Dad needed to get past the ache my mother had left behind. He was _going_ to get past it. In fact, I _wanted_ him to get past it.

I had known my mother all of a handful of moments. All my empirical evidence of her character was skewed and faded. It would fade further with time. Everything I knew otherwise was hearsay. I also knew that the love between Dad and my mother had been nothing more than teenage love. Oh, it could have been more had she not died in childbirth but the fact remained that they'd never have anything more and Dad was far too young to be a widower to a girl he'd never married. Not to mention, I was of the crowd that believed they would want their significant other to move on after death. Humans needed companionship. It was a simple fact of life. To deny your loved one some kind of comfort seemed cold and cruel.

And I knew my mother felt the same. Why else would she have insisted I go to my father?

"So, where have you gotten on your recitations?" he asked, probably to fill the silence. My hair was long brushed but he hadn't stopped combing. It was too soothing for me to tell him to stop, either. I sincerely hoped that whoever I wound up with would love combing my hair… or at least realize it was a viable way to make me compliant.

"The alphabet, counting, sums…" I wanted to purr instead of talking about what I'd learned.

"Sums?" he asked, a little surprised. I hummed. "Alright, start reciting." In sleepy comfort, I started listing what one and a number totaled until he paused me and asked me to start reciting two plus a number. He kept doing that until I was up to nine and fifteen. "Do you know minuses?" he asked. I blinked up at him, turning a little before shrugging. I knew them but I'd already impressed him. "It's like sums only you reverse it." He paused. "Do you know what reverse means?"

"Go backwards." He blinked again before staring at me in a bit more thoughtful way.

"I'm beginning to wonder if you're a genius," he commented idly though I knew it wasn't a new thought. "You understand so easily." It was called a 'head start'.

I was not interested in telling _him_ that. However, I was also aware a brain such as mine was more powerful now than it would ever be again in its lifetime. It was still technically forming, developing, and growing. I was going to learn at an accelerated rate from the simple fact that I had a foundation to build off of.

That 'genius' he thought I had was really going to be an overwhelming averageness. Or maybe a slight smartness compared to the rest of my peers. However, I already knew that I wasn't that brilliant.

I shrugged, settling into his arms. We were in my room though his things were in the spare room and I was perfectly content in the idea he was going to stay with me somehow during the night. Who cared if I was an utter 'Daddy's Girl'? He was my ultimate comfort.

"You turn very unresponsive if you don't want to talk," he mused. I blinked and looked up at him. "Somehow I think you are hiding things from me." I frowned at that. Technically, yes, I was. But how would I convey even a _modicum_ of what I knew without upsetting him? Of course, he could see I was thinking and I relaxed the frown.

"I can climb trees," I offered. He blinked at me.

"That's not what I meant, Xiao-Hua," he lightly scolded. "But how on earth did you learn how to climb _trees_?"

"Johnny," I smiled. He would have asked who Johnny was except that Grandma, Grandpa, and I had filled him in on who I spent much of my time playing with. Concern rippled across his features.

"You… haven't kissed Johnny, have you?"

"No. He's funny." He snorted and muttered something that I took as 'Abby thought I was funny'.

"No dating until you're older," he dryly noted. I rolled my eyes and promptly got attacked by tickles. A shriek of laughter burst from my mouth and quickly fell into giggles as he 'punished' me for showing sass. He let up a bit later, a wry smile on his face as I panted, tired from the assault. "You're growing up much faster than I want you to," he mused. I lay sprawled on the quilt that covered my bed, his hard work at brushing my hair messed up. He didn't seem to notice as he looked about the room. My eyes were growing heavy as sleep beckoned. "I heard the other day some of the people I grew up with are just now thinking about marriage and babies." His eyes fell on me but I didn't see him look. My eyes had already closed and my breath was evening out as I fell into dreams. Whatever else he said was lost to Morpheus.

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The dawn of my birthday was met with me sound asleep. I was too busy snoring to notice that my namesake had come along. In fact, I'd not heard much about a party because everything I wanted happened to be right in the house already. Last night, Dad and I had spent drawing only to have him stare at my nearly perfect four-element transmutation circle. Apparently the fact that my grandmother had told him hadn't really stuck in his head. He had also returned Horsey, though in reality he, Horsey, and I were all in the same bed at night so it wasn't like we weren't together.

Of course, I was still asleep.

I did not remain this way for long because I was picked up bodily and that caused me to start awake faster than I could process, which made me jerk, and that made me fall back to the bed with a squeal.

I stared up at the culprit and saw Dad looking at me rather startled. And then I gave over to impulse and whined. "Daddy!"

"Whoops," he muttered sheepishly. I pouted and rolled back over, ready to go back to sleep. He, however, had other plans and grabbed me up again. "Ah, ah, ah! Can't go back to sleep, Xiao-Hua!" he grinned before pinching at my cheeks. I grumped. "Because today's an important day! So, time to get dressed!"

I gave him a very deadpan look over pinched cheeks and he quickly released them. "Why?" He blinked.

"It's your birthday," he noted. "You're three today." He seemed puzzled by my lack of enthusiasm and I was pretty certain I was channeling a middle-aged person instead of a three-year-old girl. I was simultaneously both too old and too young and I just wanted to roll over and go back to bed. "Presents?" he offered. "Party? All for you?" I grumped again and flopped back to land on the bed. There was a long pause and he snickered. "Xiao-Hua, keep breaking expectations. Just for the hilarity of it."

"Daddy," I whined. I felt as though I was in dangerous territory and realized my prone nature made it impossible to deflect attacks. I was proven right when he started tickling me and I shrieked with laughter as I tried to worm away.

Ten minutes later, I was stripped and forced into the bath. He washed me thoroughly as I flicked water at him purposefully. For odd reasons, the fact I was a girl and naked before a man never really registered. It hadn't when I was a helpless baby and it hadn't even now at the 'ripe old age' of three. I was genderless even if I was a girl and it would _remain_ that way until I was a bit older. I also logically knew that I was too young to bathe on my own. Shallow water and one stunning fall equaled a drowning. Still, my father would probably be twenty before I officially became a 'girl'.

He then rinsed me down, toweled me off, and stuck me in yet another dress. One day, I'd have more control over my wardrobe or so I hoped. I'd love to have a pair of shorts or pants. The dress, though, was not a fancy one and I wondered at it for a moment before realizing that I probably was anticipated to get dirty before the party… which was probably accurate.

Breakfast was awesome, one little girl getting her favorite meal of griddlecakes, and I ate happily and with probably more gusto than I should have. I also jokingly fed Dad, which he accepted syrupy bites with amusement more than anything between relaying how I'd tried to go back to sleep even after being told it was my birthday. I didn't care. I had sugar and I soon had coffee. Grandpa gave it to me even if Dad gave it leery looks.

"Is it alright to give her that?" he asked cautiously.

"It's fine," Grandpa smiled as I slurped off the cooled liquid off the spoon. "She and I have been drinking coffee together for quite a few Saturdays now."

"Really?"

"Yes!" I chirped before grinning at Grandpa.

"Cheeky little girl," he smiled.

"Yes!" The adults chuckled. "Want some?" I waved the fork and he shook his head.

"I've got a lot, Dawnie. You eat your food." I pouted but did as told. He then added, "You might want to not eat such large bites. You'll choke."

"She hasn't yet," grumbled Grandma. I just chewed with bulging cheeks and knowing grin even if I couldn't properly smile around the mouthful of food. "Squirrel." I swallowed, and grinned again, showing off every single little white tooth that I had.

"She's no squirrel," Dad grumbled. "Bright eyed and bushy tailed she _wasn't_ this morning." I pouted at him.

"I was _comfy_ ," I shot back. All adults basically looked amused and I ignored them for my griddlecakes.

After that, we set about decorating the house. Red and white streamers, because they were easily available and quite decorative, were tied up along the mantle and banister as Grandma baked the cake. I was amused, of course, and kept out of the way with games and teasing. I even got to play some out in the small yard that was just behind the house. There wasn't much there other than a plot of land that I had thoroughly explored. There weren't an extraneous amount of toys, something common to this era compared to the world I'd previously grown up in, and most of my toys were definitely along the lines of a doll, Horsey, a wooden ball, blocks, and books. I probably already had more books than I should have already. I also had colors and paper was always provided. Unlike my first life, I didn't have so many toys that a continual purging was required. I also didn't have tons of clothes. In this time, people might have a week's worth of clothes, one or two nicer sets of clothes, and if one worked for the military there would also be a couple sets of blue uniforms. I personally had four dresses, mostly because I would outgrow them, and I had a nicer dress that Grandma had made special this year and would serve for most of a year. I also knew that the moment I outgrew them, they'd be cut apart and repurposed into a quilt. I also knew that Grandma had three different aprons, kept for the sole purpose of keeping her dresses neat. Two were everyday ones she wore to keep her normal dresses neat. The third was a 'dress apron' when she had company over and was complete with frills. I knew the frilly apron would make an appearance because she liked looking like a competent housewife when there were parties here.

After a while, we were shunted out of the house, Grandma wanting to do something that required everyone to not be there. That also meant Grandpa got kicked out with the stern warning that he and Dad (and subsequently me because I was too leeched onto Dad to think about parting from him) were to stay away for at least two hours. Grandpa didn't protest, of course, and offered the park.

Once I was kitted out with shoes and jacket, we went. One hand in my dad's and the other in my grandpa's, I found myself led along the sidewalk as the two men chatted. It was horribly entertaining even as I got hoisted now and again so that feet cleared the pavement and swung between them. I laughed, mostly because a faint memory of a memory had recalled this to be fun and my current life _definitely_ agreed with this even with the strain it put on my shoulders.

There was a brisk feeling to the air, one that spoke of spring having come but winter was still holding on. It was a very good day, though, with the sun bright and clouds sparse. The playground was occupied but not to the degree it would be demanded that I was forced to play with too many others.

When released, I let myself go to the monkey bars and clasped fingers on chilly and somewhat rusted metal. With some surety, I lifted myself up and pressed a shoe to the metal as I reached higher. I was a little bit off the ground when Dad came up and lifted me off. "Careful," he chided.

"I wanna climb," I declared, reaching for the metalwork. He grunted as I wiggled, my body getting to the point it was too much for him to easily handle if I struggled.

"Let the girl go," Grandpa advised with a humored laugh. "She's got the streak of an adventurer in her."

"I have no idea where she got it," Dad grumped, letting me go so that I could climb up again. Climbing was thrilling. It was fun. I liked being high and seeing further. Even now, I was scaling the framework with effort and was reaching higher. I didn't have to look to know that my dad was watching after me intently but I didn't feel him grab at me again. The slight heels on my little shoes helped a great deal, making sure my feet didn't slip off the rungs, and I attained the top of the cage. With some effort, I wiggled around to sit on it and look down. I caught Dad's gaze and saw his visible concern even as Grandpa smiled slightly up at me.

"Good view?" he called up. Dad frowned, little tension lines visible between his brows.

"Yes!" I smiled, trying to reassure my father. It didn't seem to go over too well, though. I pointed out. "I can see all the way!"

"All the way where?" Grandpa asked lightly.

"Across the playground!" He chuckled.

"Anything interesting?"

"Could you please come down now?" Dad half-demanded, half-begged. I stared down. My rump was firmly planted on the ironwork and it wasn't like I was unsteady. The cold metal kind of bit through my dress but I didn't mind too much.

"Why?" He got a look on his face that declared he didn't appreciate the question.

"You could fall from that high," he said reasonably. Grandpa rolled his eyes before clapping a hand down on Dad's shoulder.

"Son, you do realize she's probably less likely to fall sitting as she is now than when she'll try to come down, right?" Dad grimaced, the normal pride at being called 'son' smothered under his worry.

"Barty," grumbled the younger man, "I _know_. But I don't like her up that high."

"I know but sometimes you have to let a child get hurt in order for them to learn."

"I'd rather her not get a broken leg or a broken _neck_."

"Hence why you work to find a balance."

This byplay was listened to with but half an ear on my part, my eyes looking out over the playground. "Dawn!" commanded my father, drawing my attention down again and I sighed. "Don't look at me that way. I don't want you hurt." Grandpa even looked a bit annoyed but when he spoke up it wasn't against Dad.

"Listen to your father, Dawn." I sighed again and shifted carefully, rolling to put my feet on the bars again. Climbing down was no great chore but before I ever put my feet on the ground of my _own_ accord, Dad hooked me down and put me on the ground. I sighed.

"You need to sigh less," grumbled Dad. "You sound like an annoyed old lady that's too polite to say anything." I stared at him. I was _hardly_ an old lady. Annoyed, yes, but not old. Grandpa snorted.

"They call that an 'old soul'. And, yes, she is one. Come on and let's go waste more time. Sarah won't be done with whatever she's doing yet."

We wandered, among other things I played on the slide though Dad yet again worried at my 'recklessness'. I even got to be swung on the swings though Dad didn't push me as high as I might have liked and I certainly didn't have the weight to swing so high I could level with the top bar. That would, of course, come with time and I couldn't wait for it.

Despite the fact that I was three, today was already turning out to be the best birthday I'd had so far in two lives. Or so I could remember. We even went on to grab shakes from a malt shop not too far away, Dad and I sharing a strawberry flavored one and getting more than a few amused and adoring looks from women who didn't seem to be attached to any men… namely the soda jerk that smiled prettily at the sight of a cute young man doting on a little girl. Dad had the perfect weapon in me, usually because any male capable of showering a child with affection was taken as desirable. However, beyond politeness he didn't flirt with the young woman behind the counter. I knew why. Riza Hawkeye had taken his eye.

Grandpa shared some of his vanilla shake with me, his indulgent smile amused as I bounced on my tall barstool. My feet were nowhere _near_ the ground and kicked a bit, making sure I didn't hammer my toes against the underside of the bar. I did once but I checked myself so it wouldn't happen again.

By the time we went back, I'd lost that heady rush of youthful energy and my belly was full of ice cream that would likely soon digest. As a result, Dad was forced to carry me. He didn't protest but I knew I was getting a little too heavy for him. Soon enough, he'd not be strong enough to carry me at all and with him likely going to leave after this week was up meant that it would be that many fewer days for moments like this.

Upon arrival to the house, Grandpa opened the door for us and checked to make sure that Grandma was fine with us being there. Apparently it was because we were allowed in. Dad took me upstairs and put me down for bed after tugging me out of my jacket and shoes. I didn't really want to nap but permitted him to force it. Mostly because he didn't immediately get up and leave.

I fell asleep, well aware that afternoon would be consumed by cake, children, and presents.

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The party went pretty much as expected as did the 'after-party' which mainly involved three adults trying to work one sugar-hyped child into some semblance of calm. I had worn the pretty dress Grandma had made me even if I'd not entirely liked the colors or style. I looked like a doll in it. Still, I had cake (vanilla frosted in buttercream and altogether too sweet). I got visitors ranging from the Grants to a few of the better behaved ladies from Aunt Chris's shop… as well as Aunt Chris. Dad's friends, Monica and Isaiah, turned up. They had started dating while Dad was away and Jacob had moved away, having started his career in the military. Monica also brought a couple of her younger siblings, including the previously-met Sophia. At least I had closer friends in the form of John and Ellie.

By the time it was done with, I'd gotten a couple new things. There was a mass-gift from the girls of Aunt Chris's shop in the form of a tricycle. It was a big gift and John and Ellie both wanted to ride on it as neither had gotten a tricycle of their own. Aunt Chris herself had given over on her own gift, choosing a couple of new books for my collection. They were also advanced enough that I wouldn't be utterly bored and were definitely storybooks. Some of the other adults assumed Dad or grandparents would read them to me. My family knew better and that I'd read them myself… and maybe would allow Grandpa to read them to me. Grandma and Grandpa gave me some new clothes that were practical. Grandma also included a small version of an apron, no doubt encouragement to continue helping her in the kitchen. Dad's present was a toy bear made of yellow fabric with button eyes and a stitched face. He was pleased when I kept it close after the party was done with. I decided I'd have to talk Grandma into making a red shirt for my new bear because the color reminded me of Winnie the Pooh.

Unfortunately, it didn't feel like very long after that Dad had to go again. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And I turned around and hurt _him_ by asking when he'd come back to stay. It was petty and cruel but I couldn't help it.

Still, I watched him go. And I watched with a sinking feeling that it would be far too long before I had him come home again. I also knew that this was still only the beginning. He needed to be an alchemist in order to do the rest no matter what version of events might happen. He also needed to be friends or even a lover to the Hawk man's daughter because she was important, too. It didn't ease the ache. It didn't help any to think about it. But I just knew…

And I held my peace even after he was gone.

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I grew older. It wasn't precisely 'imperceptible' because I noticed when my clothes would get smaller or I could reach things I couldn't before. I missed Dad's birthday, mostly because he was away at the time, but I still talked to him on the phone for as long as possible that evening.

My face slowly changed, too, as I got bigger. It wasn't overt or to the point I couldn't recognize my own face in a mirror but it was enough that some features previously hidden by being too small became more notable. My eyes were still almond-shaped and my face remained a bit rounded though not a rounded as my father's. It was obvious there were traces of my mother in me and my grandmother took to tapping me on the nose more often when it became clear it had come to favor my mother's. She always did it with a smile, too.

One of the things to keep me occupied and away from alchemy was learning how to sew. I made my bear a new shirt from fabric scraps and my efforts were rewarded with new toys, specifically a doll my grandmother helped me stitch up and stuff and make clothes for. It was a lot of what I would have dismissed as 'home economics' even if I had figured out how to stitch a seam or a button out of self-defense in that other life, and I learned how to cook alongside the woman, helping make dinner and stirring things with all the productive seriousness a child could have.

Dad's visits were always welcome and he always told me how much I'd grown but he had to leave so soon afterwards each time.

One particular afternoon, though, there was a knock at the door but I ignored it. I figured one of the adults would get it and it was frowned upon for me to open the door without someone there with me. There was another knock, a little more insistent, and I just continued to draw a multitude of slowly more-perfect freehanded circles. It made for some rather interesting art and I often filled in the gaps of overlaid practice transmutation circles with colors to 'hide the evidence' of what I was doing even though my grandma knew _exactly_ what I was up to. Honestly, I just wanted to impress my father when he returned and… A third, harder knock came and I finally lifted my head as my grandmother bustled to the door, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Hold on a minute!" she chastised the person at the door before reaching it. I watched as my grandmother disappeared from immediate sight and opened the front door. "Yes, can I… Roy?!" I was on my feet in an instant, crayon falling to the floorboards littered with paper. "What are you doing here? I thought you had more time to do the…" She stopped herself. "Oh, come in."

"Daddy!" I cried as I fled to my father's waiting arms and he gathered me up, settling me on his hip.

"You've gotten bigger, Xiao-Hua," he teased. I grinned as the door was closed behind my father by Grandma. He seemed upset but I didn't allow it to dampen my mood. I was curious about it, though. He wasn't due back so soon.

"I'm supposed to!"

"You're going to get too heavy to pick up soon," he mused. I pouted. He looked to Grandma. "I didn't mean to come back without warning. I finished up early and couldn't wait to see Dawn."

I dearly wished to call 'bullshit' because he was obviously upset. It was not 'finishing early'. Something had happened and it wasn't good. "So you're back for good?" Grandma asked. He grinned at her.

"For a bit. I was thinking perhaps get a job for a little while."

"And after?" asked Grandma. He gave her a drawn look.

"I was thinking about enlisting," he admitted. "I know of nothing else that will give decent enough pay to… help us."

"You know what might happen, Roy," accused her grandmother as Dawn gazed at her father. "You will probably get sent out to a warfront and there's a chance…" She let it hang. "You don't need to be taking all these risks. Your daughter _adores_ you."

"Dawn, go play," Dad told me, setting me down.

"I wanna be with you," I protested stubbornly. I did _not_ want to be left out of this conversation. He frowned.

"I've got to talk to your grandmother and it's not something for you to listen to." I sulked. "Now," he insisted.

I did as told… until they were out of sight. As soon as I was certain I could sneak along, I slipped to where they were now talking in the kitchen. "What really happened?" my grandmother asked. I heard my father sigh.

"My teacher wasn't that great. Certainly, he was a great alchemist but he was a poor teacher. More often than not, I was given books and told to read. There was quite a bit of practice and I have improved but whatever his real project was, he didn't see fit to teach me. He wouldn't now even if he had inclination to before."

"Oh?"

"You'll hate me, Sarah," my daddy told my grandma. "His daughter was beautiful in every sense of the word and… nothing like Abby. She was a lot quieter. I fell for her and… Well, the reason I left was because I got too close to her and her father didn't like that."

"I think I had a suspicion, honestly," admitted Grandma. There was a long pause. "Barty will be home soon."

"The reason I picked the military was because I doubt I'm good enough to make it on alchemy alone." My father's sudden words had me cringing. I knew the truth of it. He would _have_ to go. "I hate not being here and I hate not being able to take care of her. But if I _stay_ here, I'll be reliant on others and what good am I? I was raised in a _brothel_ for crying out loud. I know how to clean up spilled drinks and vomit and I know how to manage such a place from watching my aunt. I'd rather be something more reputable."

"A soldier's more 'reputable'?" countered Grandma. I didn't have to see her face to know she was looking at him with incredulity.

"Yes, I think so. And, maybe, one day I'll become good enough to become a State Alchemist."

"Roy, that is a very bad institution. All the alchemists I've ever met speak ill of it."

"Is it really?" he asked. "I know alchemists are all 'be thou for the people' but if I am a damn repair alchemist, how is that any better than what _they_ do? It'd be significantly less money for one and impossible hours for another. I had dreams, Sarah, but they're breaking around me because I can't find one that will ensure my _baby_ will be sufficiently taken care of so I don't have to force you or my aunt or anyone else to take care of her when it's _my_ responsibility!"

I gripped my Pooh Bear to my chest, curled tightly up with my knees hugged close. "She's never been an issue to care for, Roy. You know this."

"I do, but I still feel like a horrible father because I can't support her myself." There was a long pause.

"How about this," my grandmother began, sounding tired. "You spend time with your daughter, Roy Mustang. Spend time with her. Love on her. Make sure she knows you haven't forgotten her. I don't care about this girl you met or anything like that. You've got a little girl that misses you a good deal. Stay here if you wish for that time. I don't mind and I doubt Barty will, either. Then, after a bit, go on. Go get enlisted and whatever goes with it. Aim for becoming a State Alchemist if you so wish. And the moment you find yourself posted somewhere, come get her. Don't wait until you're 'settled' because you never will be enough to your satisfaction. Alright?" There was another long silence. "I'm not happy with this, you know, but I can't fault you for wanting the best for your daughter. But don't get so caught up that you keep wandering off and leaving Dawn behind. One day you'll wake up and she'll no longer be looking for you to come home and by then she might not care to be around you anymore."

It was obvious they didn't know the truth. I knew I'd never stop looking for him but they didn't know that.

"I'll give it a year," he said finally. "And then I'll enlist."

"Get a job while you're here. It might change your mind," Grandma pointed out. My father chuckled but it sounded bitter and I quickly scampered away to keep from being seen because I realized that the conversation was coming to a close.

When my father appeared in the living room, I was again studiously coloring circles. "What's this?" he asked, crouching down next to me. His knees popped a bit doing so but he paid it no mind.

"Drawings."

"You've been practicing the circles, haven't you?" he asked, amazed. I nodded, looking up. Abandoning my coloring again, I stood up and wrapped my arms about his neck. He hugged me back, pressing kisses to my cheek. "You've grown so much, Xiao-Hua," he murmured, almost admiringly. "I can't believe how much you've grown in just this short time." I smiled, showing a toothy grin.

"Maybe I'll be taller than you one day!" I announced though I didn't really think I would be. He grinned back.

"Maybe, just maybe." He shifted and sat down, dislodging me. He then drew me into his arms, forsaking the comfort of a chair to hold me for a bit.

"You're not going away again, are you?" I asked even though I knew the answer.

"Not right now," he assured. "Not even in a week. It'll be a while, sweetie."

That 'while' demarcation hung over my head like a guillotine ready to drop. I'd listened in and I knew the reasoning… I even knew it would _have_ to happen. But it never escaped my mind I wasn't supposed to be here. What would he do when it came time to meet Edward and the 'armor brother'? Would he hide me away? Would he have forgotten me by then? Would I even _survive_ to that point?

I didn't know. And that 'not knowing' scared me far more than I really wanted to admit.

.

During this interim between 'student' and 'soldier', of which my father did _not_ tell me about, I started learning basics of alchemy. My grandmother wasn't thrilled. My grandfather was amused. My dad just though it was great that I was willing to sit and listen to him as he explained the book he was reading to me.

Ironically enough, my new brain wasn't _quite_ developed enough yet to understand chemistry though drawing circles was easy enough given a little time. I didn't mind, though, and was a very well-behaved little girl for my daddy. He also took me on the playdates my grandmother had once taken me on and then started leaving during daytime hours to work for a little money to make expenses easier. He took me over to visit Aunt Chris and her girls, let me go to the playground, helped me discover the wonders of the local library, and congratulated me on being able to pedal the tricycle I had. We spent a lot of time going about the block, him walking and me pedaling like a little champ. He even encouraged my sewing lessons and paid very close attention to the 'lessons' I gave him on how to sew.

He essentially behaved like a very good father. He did everything right and I behaved in turn.

Yet, even as seasons came and went, holidays passed by, and birthdays rolled around only to retreat, I knew it wouldn't last forever. There was no possible way it would last.

So, when my father decided it was high time he went to join the military… he applied and was soon accepted. He packed his bag once again and hugged me close while whispering he'd be back as soon as he could. He would be gone for a few weeks for boot camp, he told me, and maybe a little longer in case he was accepted to the officer academy. I knew he'd succeed. He was Roy Mustang, after all.

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Thank you for reading. **Please review.**


	6. In Which He Becomes a Soldier

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Note: I got a review from a guest that asked when Hawkeye would make an appearance. She won't for a few chapters as there is a certain amount of progression that has to occur first. However, she will be mentioned again in a couple of chapters due to off-screen events. On the other hand, there's _another_ person who everyone loves and adores that will be making an appearance _this_ chapter.

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Chapter 6: In Which He Becomes a Soldier

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Dad's boot camp training was relatively quick, all considered. He was fit, quick, intelligent, and capable of falling into line easily enough. When he exited boot camp, we went to see him. The camp wasn't that far from the city though pretty far for a little girl that hadn't seen more than a slice of that very city or been in a proper automobile before.

Let's just say I was not entirely thrilled about the lack of proper child restraints. The car didn't go very fast, thankfully, but it _didn't have seatbelts_. The car belonged Grandpa's boss and the man hadn't minded lending out the vehicle to us for the trip. I was pretty glad once we got to the camp, honestly.

Dad looked different and he picked me up as readily at four as he had at three. He did grunt a bit and smile at me warmly. "You keep growing like this and I'll have to quit picking you up," he chided.

"I can't _stop_ ," I protested, wrinkling my nose. He grinned, looking smart in the standard blue uniform of the military. There were no decorations on his shoulders, unlike the people who ran the show. Curiously, I hooked the hat off his head and he chuckled in amusement even as I looked at it. I'd never held a proper military hat before and there was a lot of social stigma involved in who got to wear one. I didn't believe any but the owner of the hat unless permission had been explicitly given or it was a treasured keepsake passed down. That was something that was a holdover from my previous life and it was a bit odd when it was taken from my hands and dropped on my head. I looked up at my father, the hat dipping into my vision.

"Bit big for your head," he mused. I grinned. A hand clapped down on his shoulder, making him start a bit, and I looked to see a friendly face peering over his shoulder.

"Hey, stop hogging the pretty ladies, Roy," teased the newcomer. I stared at him in confusion even as my father rolled his eyes.

"Hughes…" It was said with annoyance but at the same time didn't sound completely upset. "This is my daughter, Dawn." He nodded to the couple behind me. "And those are her grandparents, Bartholomew and Sarah Edgecombe." He tilted his head to the amiably grinning man. "This is Maes Hughes, a friend I made in boot camp."

"And a friend he's keeping through officer school!" chirped the man as the hat slipped on my head, briefly covering my vision. I pushed it up, staring at the friendly face in honest curiosity.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hughes," offered Grandpa, holding out a hand. The man took it and shook it firmly. "Is your family here?"

"Yes, sir. Over there." He jerked his head, waving at a couple that looked like him. Seeing the obvious inclusion, they wandered over and offered their own introductions. The woman, Shia, looked about a bit.

"Where's this one's mother?" she asked curiously before catching the sight of awkward pain coming from the trio of adults associated with me.

"Our… daughter… passed four years ago," Grandma said slowly. Shia cringed at the obvious _faux pas_ she'd done but Grandpa waved it off.

"You didn't know," he assured. "Roy here's become a son to us so we couldn't let him celebrate alone… Besides, Dawnie here wanted to see him." I was busy putting Dad's hat back on his head. He wasn't exactly helping as he wasn't looking at me properly so I was pretty certain I was going to only accomplish it getting hung on his ear like it was a hook. The Hughes man took the hat and cheerily declared 'here you go!', earning yet another eye-roll from my father.

"You're gonna wear out your eyeballs if you keep doing that," I told him, parroting what he'd once told me when I'd kept doing the same as he was. He blinked at me even as sniggers were heard. He pinched the back of my leg as it was most convenient and I yelped, trying to get away. Not that it worked when I was in his arms, but I made a valiant attempt.

"I'm aware," he chided. "Now behave."

"She's a smart kid, isn't she?" complimented Maes as Dad let me down.

"And sassier than all her friends combined," Dad agreed morosely. I wanted to say something about that but I didn't really want to get pinched again.

"So, you're her father?" Aaron Hughes, Maes's father asked. Dad nodded.

"I know. A little unconventional but I've not regretted it," Dad returned. "And I've had a lot of help from Sarah and Barty."

"But what about your side?" Shia asked. Dad considered it before answering honestly.

"My parents passed years ago and my aunt isn't exactly what one would call 'child friendly'." He shrugged. "It was a miracle she took me in after my parents passed away. Not that I've regretted it or made her regret it though I tend to spend more time with these two because Sarah spends most of her daytime hours caring for Dawn." That got a few looks directed at me again and I leaned into Dad's side as a case of nerves overtook me. Shia smiled a little at the reaction, perhaps thinking me adorable or remembering moments long gone. He caught me by the shoulders, keeping me from ducking around behind and firmly next to him, which was nice but still left me on full display. Maes Hughes crouched down with a cheery look and I eyed him somewhat suspiciously.

"So, got any fun stories about your Dad, kiddo?" I blinked at him and found the nerves rising higher but gifted him a smile even as I hid my face in the blue wool of Dad's pants. He laughed even as Dad grumbled.

"Stop trying to subvert my daughter."

"Turn against." The words were out faster than I'd intended as I'd barely translated the meaning of 'subvert' in my head. That caused the strangers to pause even as Dad ruffled my hair.

"Very good, Xiao-Hua."

"Subvert?" asked the father of Maes Hughes incredulously. "She _knows_ the meaning of _subvert_?"

"I encourage a lot of reading," Dad offered.

"She _reads_?" Mister Maes asked, standing up, also astonished. "How old is she again?"

"Four. That's old enough to read. She has a whole bookshelf." Dad actually sounded a bit confused.

"That's old enough, true, but what surprises me is the vocabulary," mused Aaron Hughes as he eyed me speculatively.

"Dawn is advanced. She's been advanced since she could sit up and look around. She understood what we were saying at one and was able to confirm or deny when she was asked things," admitted Grandma. "It's been a trick to keep her out of her father's alchemy books. She likes reading _those_ and practices drawing transmutation circles because she's seen her father do it." She shot said father a look and he looked back, sheepish.

"Sorry." Grandma did _not_ look impressed and Barty shook his head before going about engaging Aaron Hughes and his son in 'manly' conversation.

When I learned Dad would be going into the academy the next day, I resigned myself to the idea of being left once again in my grandparents' care.

.

Thankfully, training to be an officer took only a little more time than the entirety of boot camp. He hadn't been allowed to phone us but he did write a letter. I hadn't practiced writing in this body but it wasn't hard to start trying. My lettering was a little sloppy and my grandma praised my attempts, reluctantly attributing it to my drawing skills. I even included a drawing to send on to him featuring all the people I loved.

When he returned, he was glad that we didn't have to move immediately because he had been assigned to Central as had his friend, Maes Hughes. I learned through him that his friends had moved on and had either married or the like and had moved away from Central, essentially reducing his friend population to just the blue-eyed man.

Said man had cheerily decided I was too cute for words and started insisting I call him 'Uncle Maes'. Dad's amusement was obvious and clearly didn't see a reason to stop the potential adoption into the 'family' so I went along with it.

It turned out that Uncle Maes pinched more than those old biddies that Grandma sometimes visited and I pouted whenever he did so.

Dad took up residence in the house again, paying for rent now that he was 'responsible enough'. It meant a longer walk to work each day but it was better than living in the dorm or so he insisted. Apparently Uncle Maes lived in the dorm and did not appreciate living around so many men.

When I attained five, I was set up to attend school in the autumn. The school Dad chose was along the way home from Central Command, which is where he spent most of his days guarding. I had quickly discovered school in this time was far, _far_ more boring than previous schools. Or, perhaps, that was because I was in a class that seemed very backwards because I'd already learned all of this stuff. Ellie was thankfully in the same class with me but she found it easy to pay attention to all the new things we were learning where I struggled to stay awake.

It got me tagged a problem child, I was sad to say, because they weren't teaching anything other than the basics yet. And Dad got to listen to a lecture on making me straighten up or else I'd get in trouble. His honest opinion, one in which I was declaimed as 'advanced', wasn't heeded.

I realized rather quickly after that something rather important: corporal punishment was still a thing in schools. Wooden paddles were _real_ , something that had been discontinued before I'd ever stepped foot into a school in my former life.

Dad had _not_ been happy with _me_ when it turned out I'd gotten in trouble, which I thought was _supremely_ unfair. It wasn't my fault the classes were boring. I suppose it _was_ my fault that I wasn't behaved very well, though. After all, expectations and the like.

.

Dad rarely left me behind, perhaps in response to all the time he had to leave me because of his alchemy lessons or the training camp stuff or even his day-to-day work. When he had time off, he was usually making sure I was right there with him. It resulted in a lot more time interacting with Uncle Maes who generally was amused when I was trotting along at Dad's heels. There were times that they did their own thing, mostly so that Dad could have a break from being all responsible and stuff, but Dad's need to have me near was something that showed up a lot.

And I, of course, lapped up the attention. Dad's hugs were still ranked number one and Grandpa's were still ranked a close number two… but it was Uncle Maes's hugs that were a pretty solid three, tying with Grandma's hugs. The only reason they didn't quite outrank Grandma's was because he was definitely newer than her but he did bodily lift me in the air sometimes with a laugh much like Dad and Grandpa still did. Those kinds of hugs were the best, honestly.

Despite a wish to learn alchemy, though, I didn't manage to convince my father that I should get lessons _now_ rather than later. He was of the opinion that I was too young. Learning how to draw transmutation circles were one thing. Learning how to do the equations? He didn't want to teach me just yet. Which was mean and totally uncalled for but I had to go along with it because, yay, I was a _juvenile_.

There were a few times that Dad had to work and Grandma was busy and Grandpa was off doing his job that I still got to have fun. It took a bit of convincing, but Grandma eventually allowed Uncle Maes to watch after me and even carry me off from the house. Today was one of those days and he'd already outrageously spoiled me by letting me have ice cream for a snack after school and letting me do what I wanted at the park.

However, my concern for my occupation of his time must have been obvious because he called me on it. "Why do you have such a serious look?" I had been on the swing, going higher than ever before thanks to the bespectacled man's efforts, until he'd caught my look.

"Don't you have things you need to do?" I asked, frowning a little. He blinked at that.

"Like?"

"Errands?" He considered this before shrugging.

"I'll have time this evening. Why are you worried about it?"

"Because we're here instead of doing what you need to do."

"Aren't you having fun?" he asked, confused. I nodded.

"Yeah, but… I don't want you to be mad later." He stared at me before abruptly laughing. I felt a bit offended, not appreciating the humor. I didn't even know where it had come from.

"You're the weirdest kid!" he teased, ruffling my hair. I pouted, annoyed. Granted, such a move couldn't have been done unless I'd been sitting on a _still_ swing but he'd halted me when he had noticed I'd been less than enthused. "Dawnie, you're behaving like a little old lady. You're more grown up than I am."

"Take that back!" I refuted immediately, not liking the idea I was more grown up than a fully grown man. He laughed more, clearly amused by my rejection of his words. "I'm not an old lady!" I insisted.

"You act like one!" he taunted. I bounced to my feet and glared at him. "Aw, come on. You are really advanced for your age and you worry about things that you don't really _have_ to worry about," he pointed out to me. "It's like you're a much older person trapped in a little kid's body." That assessment made me more than a little uncomfortable. I _was_ a much older person trapped in a child's body. Even though my 'baby instincts' had matured into 'child reactions', I still thought like an adult most of the time. He must have seen my discomfort because he crouched down before me. "Hey, don't be upset. Just worry about being a kid right now, alright? Soon enough, you'll be my age and have to get a _job_ and worry about things that you don't _really_ want to have to worry about… Be a kid, Dawnie. It's alright to be thoughtful, though."

Something akin to worry and dread burbled in my chest. I knew Ishval would soon be an issue and I knew there was a chance my being here would mean he wouldn't survive. The same could be said for my father, in fact. The world had changed because I'd been born. "Uncle Maes?" I began, looking at him.

"Yeah?"

"You're family." He looked a little amused at my declaration though he didn't realize exactly how much weight I generally vested into that word. "I… Being military is dangerous." His amusement faded as I stared at him seriously.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed.

"Promise me something?" His eyes were steady and thoughtful as I went on. "Promise me you'll always come back. Make a promise like Daddy. Please?" Words went a long way. Words were _power_. A promise like that might seem childish on the surface but the power of such a promise, especially from such responsible people who always tried to keep their promises, could do things that a mere wish to survive couldn't. Uncle Maes's face showed a variety of thoughts within him but not once seemed to find amusement in my demand.

"That's not something I can guarantee," he cautioned.

"Yes, you can," I insisted, fists balled at my sides and tears pricking at my eyes. "You _can_. Daddy holds his promises _always_. You can, too." He looked conflicted, concerned. He didn't know I knew exactly how dangerous the military could be. He didn't know I was that _aware_.

"Alright, then. I promise," he assured me.

"Promise _what_?" I needled. He sighed.

"I promise I'll come back always," he assured me. "No matter what, I'll come back, Dawnie."

"I'll hold you to that," I told him firmly. "You better believe it!" His consideration was odd. He could see but not quite rationalize how much I actually knew with the face I wore.

"I believe it," he replied after his thoughtful inspection. "Somehow, I believe it." He stood up, towering over me. "Well, I guess we should get back to your grandma's. I don't want her fussing at me again." I smirked and he stared. "Kid, you need to stop spending so much time with your dad."

"He's awesome," I smirked.

"Something like that," he returned very slowly before taking my hand and leading me home.

.

"I heard about you making your uncle promise things." The brush running through my hair, as per the usual, had me humming contentedly. My father had learned early on that he had me helpless when he brushed my hair and used it as interrogation time.

"Yes," I answered honestly.

"Why did you do that?"

"So he'll come back. You like him."

"Come back from what, Xiao-Hua?" he needled.

"If you have to go fight," I explained, turning my head to look at him and making him pause in his usual combing. "Because soldiers go fight. And sometimes soldiers don't come back from the fights." He blinked at me thoughtfully before sighing and shaking his head.

"I don't know why I even bother being astonished anymore," he complained.

"Five's old enough to figure things out," I protested. He scooped me close and hugged me and I hugged him right back.

"You're going to be a monster when you're fifteen," he complained into my shoulder. "Please, please don't do anything to prove how much my daughter you are?" I didn't really understand that but I patted his arm awkwardly.

"I'm not gonna be a monster," I promised. He shifted, eyeing me. "I'm going to be Dawn."

"I'm not sure if that's scarier or not," he grumped. I looked at him and then smiled before snuggling close to his chest. He pressed a hand to the side of my head, stroking at my hair. "I love you, Xiao-Hua."

"Love you, too, Daddy."

.

There weren't many opportunities to visit Dad at work. In fact, there were pretty much zero opportunities. He was a grunt, essentially, and most of his tasks involved grunt work. He was a guard or a courier or whatever they made him do for that week. When he had time, he would study alchemy. When he wasn't studying, he was spending time with those that mattered to him.

However, there was one day when I was brought to his place of work and mostly because he had to go take care of some documentation while he was watching over me.

It was actually rather a fascinating place, the military campus. People were, hah, _uniformly_ dressed in blue wool. Some had more decorations than others. Most were actually undecorated. I held my father's hand as he drew me along and met several of the stares directed at us (or, rather, _me_ ) as we went along. His strides were purposeful and I practically had to trot to keep up. It was obvious he didn't really want to be here on his day off.

We went through a set of doors, Dad chivvying me before him when he did, and he paused at a greeting before nudging me on. "How far?" I asked, honestly curious.

"Just a little ways, Xiao-Hua," he assured. "And then we'll go."

"Alright."

"Who is this?" Dad froze and I looked over to see a man there eyeing us curiously. There was gold on his shoulders and Dad instinctively straightened to salute him though one hand remained firmly on my shoulder.

"Sir," he greeted. "I… apologize for bringing my daughter, but I was only stopping by for a short bit before going again." The man's brow arched at that, visible surprise lining his face. I wondered briefly if I ought to salute, too, but tamped that instinct down.

"Really? Your daughter, you say?"

"Yes, sir," agreed Dad. More attention was on us and I realized the man Dad was talking to had guards. I looked to the man a little more, taking in details. I'd noticed the eyepatch, of course, but the rest of him looked stern. His mustache was thick, covering his upper lip easily, and had obviously been meticulously trimmed. The planes of his face were severe and I swallowed as I tried to scoot out of his line of sight. Dad's hand prevented that, of course.

"She's a cute little girl. What's her name?"

"Dawn, sir," Dad told him, finally relaxing from his salute. I didn't know who he was, but this guy actually made me feel _uncomfortable_. "Sorry, she's a little shy." I darted a glance up at him. He seemed somewhat in awe, interestingly enough.

"Well, I dare say you have more important things to do than to talk to me," mused the older man, face amiable even if he still set off a deep-seated reaction of dislike in me. "Carry on."

"Yes, sir!"

"And nice to meet you, Miss Dawn," acknowledged the man. I stared at him, ignoring the nudge my father gave me to respond. The man chuckled and walked on, guards following after him.

After that, Dad hauled me on to the place he needed to do his paperwork before hauling me out of the building altogether. "Why weren't you polite?" he demanded of me. "That was the Fuhrer!"

"He was?" I asked in confusion. "I don't like him." Then again, a military state was actually going to be commanded by the head of the military, which was the Fuhrer. I just didn't like him.

"Dawn!" he hissed, glancing around worriedly. "Why not? He wasn't mean or anything."

"I don't know," I insisted as we put more distance between us and the military facility. "I don't like him. He was scary."

"He didn't do anything bad," Dad pointed out.

"He was _scary_ ," I insisted. "Like how a _lion_ is scary." He looked a bit thoughtful at my words but still not really happy.

"You've never been around a lion before," he noted. "Not really."

"Lions are predators," I told him. "If they aren't in cages, they'd eat you up!" He frowned at my description. "And you _know_ it even if they don't look like they're going to attack!"

"I… see…" He paused. "I think I'm going to have to limit your reading again."

"Daddy!" I complained, dragging on his hand. "Come on! I like reading!" He looked pretty conflicted and I didn't know if I'd wear him down all that much. He was pretty stubborn and I'm pretty sure I got my stubbornness from him.

"Xiao-Hua," he sighed as he instinctively pulled me straight again. "There are days and then there are _days_ , aren't there?"

"I don't get it," I complained even if I got the meaning immediately.

"You will one day. Come on."

.

Most of my life was now encompassed by school. School eventually started dictating things like _homework_. Ellie despised homework and I did, too. We preferred going to play, which recess was our favorite section of the day. We actually got two recess periods, one in the morning and one right after lunch. The morning one was fun though only about an hour long. The after lunch one is usually about half that but if lunch is eaten quickly, it could be up to an hour and a half total time.

Children have a lot of innate energy, by the way. I hated sitting still for too long and most of the other kids were that way, too. Recess was a way to spend that energy so that we could actually pay attention in class. I'd forgotten the joys of recess because in my old life such things were phased out far too early for me to really appreciate when I'd been a child the first time. Actually, I was pretty certain I'd forget again. The human brain can only hold so much information readily available at a time, after all. But here, where tests hadn't taken precedence over the children for funding just yet, recess was still a very real thing.

And I discovered I was very good at running.

Let me just say that, previously, I'd been asthmatic. Running a lot was a good way to put me in a fit, especially when there were allergens in the air. This time, genetics turned to my favor. I wasn't as prone to an attack and I loved to play without fear of losing my inhaler. Sure, I couldn't play so much I ruined my clothes, but I could still have lots of _fun_.

The only downside was that I already had a school uniform. It was just a plain white dress shirt and a skirt and shiny shoes and knee stockings but… it _was_ a uniform. My grandma thought I looked adorable in it and took a great amount of pleasure starching the shirts into nearly cardstock every time they were washed. It was _uncomfortable_ and I don't think anyone else's clothes were anywhere as stiff as mine were. At least by the end of the day, the starch had all broken down so it wasn't a total loss. Still, _getting there_ was the battle.

Ellie stared at me for the fifth time that day as I pulled a 'Baloo' on the doorframe leading into the classroom. Not that she knew who or what a 'Baloo' was or even that I was mimicking the whole scratch-the-back-on-nice-sharpish-corner from a storybook brought to life on an animated screen but… Yeah. "The starch?" she asked. I shot her a sour look.

"The starch," I agreed. She frowned at me.

"Why don't you tell your grandma to stop?" she asked. I rolled my eyes as I pulled away.

"Oh, it wouldn't _do_ to have me come to school all wrinkled." Ellie's nose wrinkled at my words, her face contorting at my sarcastic and witty repartee (mostly because she was five and I was a smarty-pants, right?) and I sighed.

"Was that supposed to be funny?" she asked cautiously.

"Yeah. It was."

"Oh." She bounced on her toes, sending her heels clacking on the wood floorboards, before she asked, "How was it supposed to be funny?" I sighed again before trying to explain exactly what sarcasm was, how it was supposed to be funny, and I was pretty sure I was failing miserably. Then Ellie asked, "So, is that why you laugh at some of the things I say?" I blinked at her. "Because you took it sarcastic?"

"Er, yeah." She thought about it and nodded.

"Okay!" she grinned. And… that was that.

.

"I'm corrupting an innocent." The reactions were worth it as Dad choked on drinking water, Grandma's head whipped around to stare, and Grandpa's dinner got nearly upended onto the table.

"What?!" Perhaps I shouldn't have phrased it like that but it was the best way to say it, too.

"What's that supposed to mean, Dawn?!"

"What boy have you been kissing?" Dad asked in horror, sounding a little bit hoarse thanks to the water. I blinked at him before shaking my head.

"I didn't kiss anyone. I taught Ellie sarcasm."

"What?" It was dully given in an utterly unimpressed tone with all the demand of a parent (or in this case, grandparent). Grandma's gaze was level as she began to help Grandpa clean up his mess.

"I taught Ellie about sarcasm," I repeated helpfully. "Like, when you say something and put this tone to it that… doesn't really match the statement. Like you say something true but you don't really believe it or when you say something that's a lie and… you're mocking it."

"We know what sarcasm is, Xiao-Hua," Dad pointed out. " _Why_ did you decide to teach her about sarcasm?"

"But Grandma didn't ask 'why' at first. She asked 'what'." It was an innocently given response, hampered by the amusement I felt going through me. Dad gave me a very dangerous look and I wilted back a bit. "Fine," I sulked, looking at my plate. "I told her about it because she didn't understand what I said about the starched shirts."

"Starched shirts?" Grandma asked.

"Something about…" I muttered the rest of it under my breath, not really wanting to tell them straight out.

"Speak up, Dawn." It was always serious when Dad dropped the 'Xiao-Hua' nickname. I sighed and repeated myself louder. I didn't look up, so I didn't see what their expressions were.

"I do that to make sure you look neat at school, Dawn," Grandma said, sounding a little injured. I looked up, shamed.

"It itches. I'm sorry, but it _does_ ," I told her. I was beginning to think I shouldn't have said anything to start with but it was too late to do anything about it now. "And my shirts stand up funny and it's just… It's weird when I can stand my shirt up without me in it!" I was feeling pretty terrible by now and I looked down again. "I'm sorry," I repeated to my plate.

There was a long and rather extended silence following my explosion of words. Then Dad sighed. I could tell because he'd sighed at me more times than I could really count. It didn't help that there was a suspicious sound that was coming from Grandpa's direction. He was probably angry I had said such things. "Eat your dinner," he told me, not looking to my grandfather. "And we will talk about this later."

Later, unfortunately, came all too soon in my opinion. There were disadvantages to being the only child in an otherwise adult-filled house. This was one of them because I had three adults looking at me and I was more interested in my lap than I was in looking at them.

"Alright," Grandpa started in a carefully modulated tone, mostly because he was more or less the main peace negotiator in the family. "Let's start simple. Dawn." I looked up warily, catching his vaguely amused look. "You don't like how much your grandmother starches your shirts?" I shook my head in the negative. "You've got a voice, Dawn. Please use it." There was nothing remotely request-like about his statement, though. It was a command.

"No, sir."

"Why?"

"Because it itches," I explained. "And it pulls funny."

"Do you want her to stop?" Logical child answer was to say 'yes'. But I wasn't just operating on a child's logic.

"Not… completely? Grandma likes me looking neat." It seemed that mollified my grandmother a little.

"So, you don't want her to stop starching your shirts but maybe use a little less starch, is that right?" Grandpa Barty pressed gently. I nodded and murmured a 'yes'. Dad was pinching at his nose, a sign of a headache brought on by frustration or tension, and Grandma sighed as she shook her head.

"Why didn't you say something before?" she asked, sounding a bit disappointed. I didn't know what to say to that but tried anyway.

"Because you looked happy." I looked down at my lap again, feeling foolish and kind of stupid.

Dad spoke then, sounding very odd. "How much do you do in order to make us happy?" I shot him a look, one that was definitely of confusion. "How many times do you stop yourself from saying something so that we're not…?" He left it hanging, looking to the other adults in an effort to try and get his point across. I frowned a bit.

"What I think your dad is trying to say is," Grandpa said slowly, "How often do you just stay quiet when you want something different? How often do you not tell us you're unhappy?"

I didn't really know how to respond to that. I had sometimes stopped myself from throwing fits and had often stifled my juvenile instincts even if it wasn't completely necessary. I hadn't been happy to do so but I'd stopped myself from being a brat. Grandma was even looking at me with an odd speculative look and I looked down at my lap.

So, if I couldn't honestly answer, I could sidestep. "I just wanted to make you proud." Despite my very good attempt to make it neutral, my words came out upset and somewhat pathetic. It netted me an immediate hug and I curled into my father's grip with ease. I buried my face into his shoulder even as Grandma spoke.

"We're already proud of you, Dawn. But we don't want you to be unhappy or untrue to yourself, either." That was the thing, though. I wasn't being 'untrue' to myself. I wasn't unhappy generally speaking. I loved it when they were happy and I loved it when it was me making them smile. Best of all was when I made them fit to burst with pride. I didn't really stop myself all _that_ often because I got punished enough to prove that. I was still my own person and my long-standing habits sometimes showed up only to get me spanked for inappropriate behavior.

Unfortunately, sarcasm and snarky commentary were two things that definitely got me spanked.

"I'm not trying to be different," I mumbled into Dad's shoulder. "Just trying to be good." I considered those statements before adding, "It's hard." Dad's chuckle rumbled into my ears and I tightened my fingers on his shirt.

"Yeah, being good is hard," he agreed. "I should know."

.

My shirts did, in fact, stop being quite so starched and there was a period of time where I felt the adults central in my life paid more attention to me than was strictly necessary, probably due to the fact they weren't entirely certain I was honest during my little talk with them. I had mostly been honest (it was difficult to explain concepts to adults when they assumed I was a child and I didn't want them to know that I was anything _but_ a child, even if I was a peculiar one) though I hadn't been direct. It reminded me of that phrase I'd heard about never lying. However, truthfulness and honesty were two different things. I was usually a pretty truthful child but I could and often would make truth bend. After all, according to the letter of the phrase, _telling_ a lie was bad… Not speaking a truth wasn't precisely _telling_ a lie even if a court found such a thing to be perjury.

It was times like these that I started enjoying going to school even if it _was_ boring. I was at the top of my class, a fortune considering it allowed me a certain amount of liberties with the teachers though acting out was still frowned upon, and I had Ellie to distract me from the pervasiveness that was my guardians. I was even thinking about making more friends though children my age didn't really have large social circles. It helped, I suppose, that I was put at a table with other children beyond Ellie. There were only two others but it was two more that I continually interacted with beyond the Grant children. One was a girl with dark brown hair and large brown eyes and olive-tinted skin. Like myself, she looked like she was of mixed blood and her name was Maria West. The boy that sat with us was as classically blonde-haired and blue-eyed as possible, the basic stock of Amestris. His name was Grayson Lang and wasn't too fond of his first name. He preferred the nickname of 'Gray'. So, we were four: Maria, Gray, Ellie, and Dawn. Like Ellie, they were children. Gray had the meekest personality of the four of us, the youngest of five children and all the rest girls. I found that out when one of his bossy older sisters had come over during recess to harangue him. Maria, on the other hand, was the bossiest. She liked things a particular way and _her_ way. As an only child and one that saw weakness in Gray, she took horrible advantage of him.

I wasn't about to have that but I also didn't want to cripple Gray into being a weak person for the rest of his life. Gray and Maria became both of my personal projects. Ellie was assertive enough that she wasn't exactly a social cripple and she wasn't so pushy that she alienated others. She didn't need 'adjustment'.

"Gray, what do you think?" I asked, tilting my page of letters so he could see. "Good enough?" He blinked at my question before shyly nodding.

"You have the best writing," he told me. "You're the best at everything." I blinked at him, feeling that as something wildly inaccurate.

"I am?" I asked blankly. His observation was so far out of left field that I didn't even understand the context. I glanced at the other two, one of whom was giggling at me and the other who was pouting slightly. Ellie always seemed to notice my moments where I faltered and behaved more like an adult caught off guard by a child. Gray nodded at my question, blushing a little.

"Kind of jealous, sometimes," he mumbled. I considered this and peered at his admirable attempts at forming letters. Mine were already developing a style, oddly not the same one that I'd had in my previous life, though at this point making them 'perfect' was more key than making them personalized. I was already 'perfect' so I was in the process of getting more casual with my letter formations and, therefore, personalized.

Bored as I was, it was of little surprise I'd pull out a book and read a bit. I had a feeling they, as in the teachers, were interested in advancing me to the next class if only to occupy me more but I wasn't interested and wouldn't go unless I was forced to. It would be novel to coast through school for once with little in the way of effort. The teacher accepted my inattention, mostly because I wasn't causing trouble and taking my books was a great way to make me act out, and continued her coaching though she largely only supervised my table. Despite my inattention to her, I was paying some attention to my tablemates and she knew that I was capable of helping even when I wasn't engaged with the task at hand.

It had numerous advantages, really. And it was nice to be considered competent enough to look after myself to some degree. When Maria started having issues with her letter forms, I put aside my book and went to her. And I knew whenever we got to mathematics I would have to help them again. We were doing basic addition and would proceed into basic subtraction and it was ultimately inane no matter how I tried to divvy it up and make it fun.

Divvy? Get it? Addition and subtr… never mind.

I knew, though, that this peaceful time wouldn't last. I knew this because I had a loose idea of what would happen in the future. I knew Ishval was becoming more of an issue, I knew that my father's alchemy studies hadn't yet turned to fire, and I knew that eventually even worse things would happen. Trying to communicate the knowledge to adults was difficult without having difficult questions asked. I didn't know how Dad would begin his fire training or how exactly Ishval would devolve into war. I didn't know the timeline of things. It was like being a seer or something.

I paused in my reading, considering that. Prophetic dreaming was actually something that happened often throughout societies. In the more-or-less agnostic Amestris, though, I didn't know how well it would go over. It wasn't exactly something that was well known. But perhaps I could plant a few ideas?

I wasn't sure, though. I wasn't exactly a consummate actor… act _ress_. It would have to take a lot of psyching up to get to the desperate, frightened air I'd _need_. I'd have to imagine some horrible things, tear myself up, and make it real enough to be believed.

This was the bad part about being what I was. I was too logical to permit something off the cuff. I was too logical to really favor emotionality. Which was _frustrating_ , actually, because I'd been more apt to be emotional in my last life. I guessed it had something to do with my new body. My father was a very logical man and I seemed to take quite a lot from him. I supposed nature versus nurture was a very real thing.

The bad part was that _because_ of that inherited logical mindset, it would be very difficult to feign the appropriate fear even in the middle of the night and to sleepy, worried adults. The problem was a difficult one, I concluded. There was no way to genuinely fake a nightmare-induced fear.

So, perhaps there were other methods?

"Dawn!" I looked up, eyes wide as my attention was taken by Maria. She looked very annoyed. "I was calling you and you ignored me!"

"Oh, sorry," I murmured, blinking at her. "Um, what is it?"

"Look at _my_ letters!" I suppressed a sigh, knowing very well that this would likely be a running theme for most of my school years.

-/-/-/-

Thanks for reading. **Please review.**


	7. In Which Everything Changes

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Note: I got a review from Lupo359, and they mentioned Dawn's leeriness of Wrath, questioning if it was because she was an insert. I'm going to point out right now that I actually _like_ the Homunculi (except 'Father'), and I think that Wrath and Pride developed true feelings towards Mrs. Bradley though she was somewhat a means to an end. I think this was proven when Wrath ordered her death to protect her from becoming part of the Stone (so I assume), and Pride wanted her and not 'Father' after being defeated. Now, why did Dawn immediately dislike Wrath? Well, haven't you ever met a person you disliked or feared at first meet? Wrath, to me, looks intimidating even when he's smiling. He's tall, wears an eyepatch, totes swords, and no amount of smiling completely erases his severe presence. Any child would be scared at first (and then may come around to liking him). Adults probably feel ill-at-ease around him, too, but dismiss it as "he's the Fuhrer" or they're being foolish.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 6: In Which Everything Changes

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Holidays in Amestris were very strategic. The calendar week that included the shortest day of the year was known as the Winter Festival or the Night Festival. The calendar week that included the longest day of the year was known as the Summer Festival or the Sun Festival, again depending on who one talked to. The other two days, the Spring Equinox and Autumnal Equinox, were also surrounded by their own calendar week of celebrations. There were no other 'holy days', that phrase that had over time involved into 'holiday', to speak of though there were a few government days that people took as days to not work on. Most people also generally closed their businesses on Saturday, the last day of the week, which was interesting as that was the traditional day of Sabbath for another world.

That being said, there was someone very much like Santa Claus in this world and he was called Old Man Winter. The difference between _this_ figure and Saint Nicholas was that he was responsible for bringing winter to the northern half of the globe and brought presents to children as an apology for the cold. He was some strange crossbreed between Jack Frost and Santa Claus and the idea was kind of amusing so I always found myself looking forward to that special week. For the average man and woman, it meant that there would be a week of fun and festivals and vacations on each of these quarterly holidays. For military people, I discovered, it meant that there were certain strictures as far as holidays were. Oh, they got it back in regular vacation days that weren't allowed to be taken on those special weeks, but they only were allowed one of the four major weeks off and two of the others as half-duty weeks. The last one was full duty, which meant no ability to escape work. Some worked around that by scheduling a week of vacation _before_ or _after_ that particular solstice or equinox week they had to work full duty.

And this was how it was for my dad. He didn't get Solstice off like he'd hoped but he _did_ arrange for some time _after_. He didn't take a full week, choosing to make it only three days, but he _was_ available for when Old Man Winter supposedly came and left presents during Solstice week.

"Presents!" I squealed delightedly, racing to tackle my daddy. He swept me up into his arms as I collided with him, hugging me close with a bright laugh.

"You're a lot more excited this morning, Xiao-Hua," he noted. "Normally, it's a chore to get you out of the bed even if there _are_ presents."

"It's because you're going to go to _work_ today," I explained impatiently, disentangling myself. He was, in fact, wearing his uniform and I didn't begrudge him of that at all. I did, however, want to do presents while he was _there_.

"Ah. Ever considerate, aren't you?" he complimented before dropping a kiss to my forehead. "Alright, then. Hurry up. I've got to leave soon to get to work on time." With that gentle ushering, I was off like a shot and next to my presents where Grandma and Grandpa were. I tore into the paper of the first one, revealing a box that soon gave way to the view of clothes. That was normal and I knew that clothes were the main staple of my presents. They always were. Granted, I did get a new scarf and a _quilt_ , which was amazing. I'd seen Grandma working on it sometimes, but I'd not expected it was for me. As I was still a little girl, I did get a couple new toys, too. A brand new rubber ball (which I was immediately told if I bounced it in the house, I'd get spanked) and a new stuffed toy in the shape of a horse. I still had Horsey but now Horsey had a friend.

The new horse and the ball were both the gifts from Old Man Winter, distinguished by their labels and the blue paper wrapping with white string they'd been done up in. It wasn't the reds and greens associated with Christmas that I half-expected still, but that was alright. I immediately cuddled the horse and the quilt Grandma had made for me and declared it the best Solstice ever. The pleased smiles were obvious and I happily hugged my dad. He hugged me back for a long moment before speaking.

"I need to get going, Xiao-Hua. You be good for Grandma and Grandpa, alright?"

"Yes, sir!" I chirped. He smiled at them before gathering up his coat and leaving the house. I turned to Grandma.

"Who wants griddlecakes for breakfast?" she asked, smiling at me.

"Me! Me!" I announced.

"I'd like some, too," Grandpa agreed.

"Well, I'll need a helper to make breakfast. Who will help me?" I immediately jabbed a finger at Grandpa before he could even say anything. Both adults stared at my cheeky grin before laughing fondly.

"I don't know. Your grandma seems to think I burn more than I cook, so you should, Dawnie," he told me. I pretended to pout but was still far too amused to really be upset.

"Okay," I mock-sighed.

The day was good. Breakfast was awesome (only because I helped, or so Grandma told me). I rolled the ball across the floorboards, using the baseboard of the wall to bounce it back to me and my legs as bumpers to keep it from rolling off. I 'introduced' Horsey to my new toy, deciding that the new horse with its 'paint' coat of white and brown splotches would be named 'Spots'. Horsey and Spots looked great together even if they were obviously of different makes and I happily touted both with me to announce to my grandparents that they were getting along.

Said grandparents indulgently smiled at me.

When Dad returned from work, I could see immediately he'd was in a bad mood. Concern flooded me and I went to him as he sat in the living area without really greeting anyone. Taking the quilt I had yet to take to my room, I pulled it over him and was well aware of him watching me as I did so. I then curled next to him and held up my horses. "Horsey and Spots," I told him.

"Spots, huh?" he asked, brushing fingers through my hair. I nodded. "Good name. Fits."

"Welcome home," I told him. He smiled but there was still tension in his eyes and I wondered at what caused it.

"Good to be home," he told me.

.

"What happened today that had you so upset?" I listened from a spot out of sight on the top of the steps as the adults discussed why Dad was in such a bad mood. I was technically supposed to be in bed but I'd long ago figured out which floorboards to avoid and the like since coming to semi-permanently live here. I heard Dad sigh. It could only be him.

Clutching Spots and Horsey to my chest, I listened to his response. "I was on guard duty, which is miserable enough without the snow and whatever, but… this lunatic decided to try and break into the compound. He had a gun and it was fired. No one in the military was hurt, thankfully, but he nearly unloaded it before he was stopped. I watched him get gunned down from a distance." I winced. "They didn't kill him but… considering the charges he'll now face? I'm not sure if that wouldn't be kinder."

"He endangered lives," Grandma pointed out. "And you knew the military would be dangerous."

"Not so close to home," he protested. "This is the _center_ of Amestris! The fighting isn't supposed to happen _here_!" There was another sigh and I didn't know who gave it this time.

"Son, there are bad people everywhere. There are dangerous people everywhere. You know as well as I do that you're very dangerous if you need to be. But what matters is restraining that dangerousness when needed. Some people don't have that ability or willfully disregard that ability. It's not good. It's not bad. It simply is."

"And what happens if some dangerous person that doesn't bother with restraint? What if they walk into… I don't know, _Dawn's_ school and shoot the place up?" He sounded very frustrated and worried.

"Now you're borrowing trouble," chided Grandma. "Roy, you can't worry on what-ifs. That'll just make you grow old faster."

"I _have_ to," Dad protested. "I have to worry about these sorts of things because maybe I can figure out some way to protect others."

"That's just borrowing trouble," Grandma insisted. "You're not going to be able to protect everyone. You're not going to be able to plan for everything. And if you try to stop people _before_ they do bad things, you would ultimately become a bad person. Just calm down, go to bed, and sleep on it. Things will look better in the morning." There was a long pause before Dad spoke again.

"I suppose you're right," he sighed.

"I am right," Grandma said dryly. "Go on. Get settled down. I'm sure you need plenty of rest after today." Sensing the conversation was at an end, I scrambled back to my bed and burrowed beneath the sheets, tucking my toys in with me. It was done without a creak of a floorboard and I was very proud of myself. There was even the advantage of sleeping with my door open usually, which meant that I didn't have to compete with squeaky hinges.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and I closed my eyes while listening hard with my ears for any possible other words. The feet stopped outside my door and I was tempted to open my eyes just a crack to see Dad, because I was pretty sure it was him, but I didn't and I worked to keep my breathing even and smooth. Sleep began to overtake me just as I heard him talk. It wasn't said to me but rather to himself. I could tell by the tone.

"I have to protect you, Xiao-Hua. I think the world would end if I lost you." He went on, thankfully, because it had started me awake again. I stared at the empty door. What kind of pain would it be for a father to lose his child? I couldn't imagine. I didn't want to even _begin_ to imagine. Grandpa and Grandma had lost my mother and I knew that they still hurt even now.

What kind of pain would they and my father suffer if I was to die? I swallowed, fearful of the thought, and rolled over to try and allow my busy mind some reprieve.

I did fall asleep but I don't know how much later it was. By that time, I think my grandparents had indeed gone to sleep themselves.

.

Spring came again and I found myself back in school busy being bored. My birthday was coming, though, and I had a feeling that Dad was already planning on having a birthday party for me. Well, he probably was. Part of me anticipated the event because I loved having everyone around, especially him.

Sometimes it honestly startled me how much I adored my father. I wanted to please him, make him happy, and reveled in the love he showed _me_. I didn't like it when he left me. It was clear I had a very severe attachment to him and I didn't know if that would have a negative impact later on. I didn't concern myself too much with it, though, because I didn't really have to.

So, when my birthday finally came, it was greeted with a special breakfast… and I was told the birthday party for all the other kids invited over would be on the weekend.

"But today, I'm off from work," Dad told me. My head snapped up from the food before me. "And I'm going to call into school for you." My eyes rounded in shock as my jaw dropped. He saw my amazement and his eyes practically sparkled with delight. "What do you say to going to the zoo today?"

"Really?!" I squealed in delight, earning chuckles of laughter from  
Grandma and Grandpa. Dad nodded, smiling at me.

"Really," he assured. "It's not every day you turn six."

"I'm already jealous," Grandpa said, smiling as well. "I have to go to work." I looked to him.

"Why can't you take off, too?" I asked innocently. His smile shifted slightly, the set speaking of something other than amusement, as his eyes went to his wife. Her gaze also shifted and there was a sense of something being spoken without words when Dad's fingers covered mine and he gripped my hand.

"Maybe I can get a day off," Grandpa mused thoughtfully, looking to me again. "Let me see if I can, alright? It'd be a nice day for all of us to go to the zoo." Breakfast finished up and I gleefully helped Grandma clean up. It was a normal sort of thing to do, my helping her after a meal. That was mostly because there was usually no one to help her otherwise after breakfast because Dad and Grandpa typically left for work after they finished eating. As I did this, Dad also helped today, and Grandpa went for the phone. I could hear him talking to his boss, explaining why he was asking for a day off, though I couldn't hear too clearly. Clinking plates, splashing water, rattling silverware, and the general hubbub of movement across floorboards is actually pretty good at smothering a conversation already muted by walls and doors and distance. I didn't try to listen in, aware that I would know soon enough.

When he did return, most of the dishes had been completed, Dad putting things away as I dried and Grandma washed. I turned expectantly only to see his sober expression. "Well?" I asked hopefully. "Are you off?" I didn't think so, though. Not with that expression on his face. He heaved a sigh, glancing at Dad and Grandma.

"Well, I'm sorry, sweetheart." I knew it. "It's a little too short notice and I'm required today." My head fell as I gave a disappointed sigh. "I better get going and I'll see you tonight, alright?"

"Okay," I replied, going to hug him. He knelt down to give me a good hug and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"You have fun at the zoo, alright?"

"I will," I assured. I'd not been to the zoo yet but I was determined to have a good time. He pressed me back and smiled reassuringly at me.

"We still have this afternoon and you can tell me all about the zoo when I get home." And with that, once my arms were free, he stood and went out the door, snagging coat and hat as he went.

I looked to my father and grandmother. "It happens, Xiao-Hua," noted Dad. I nodded morosely. "Come on and let's get you out of those school clothes, alright?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

.

The zoo was _nothing_ like I expected. I stared at the cage the great lions were kept in, a male and two females, and felt pity as they panted on unyielding concrete behind bars. Every other animal cage had been the same. The very few monkeys had a few perches they could climb to. The birds sat on wooden poles that didn't look anything like 'branches'. The sole tiger paced restlessly behind bars. The wolves looked haunted, staring out from behind their barrier.

And all around me were a few other families that seemed to be having a good time despite it being a weekday and finding nothing wrong with these cramped, close conditions that didn't even _look_ like the humanitarian habitats that I'd come to admire as much as the animals kept in them.

"See, Xiao-Hua?" Dad asked, pointing at one cage. I clutched at my skirt, eyes unmoving from those penned animals' faces. "Lions!"

"Can we go home?" I pled, voice vibrant with upset and disgust. He looked at me sharply as Grandma came back from a roasted nuts cart with a package of peanuts.

"Xiao-Hua?" he asked, shifting to look at me better. "What's wrong?"

"That," I told him, staring right at the lions, before realizing my eyes were burning. "They're trapped."

"Xiao-Hua, that's what zoos are for," he said slowly as Grandma paused upon sensing something was wrong. "To keep the animals safe and _us_ safe. You can't just set them loose."

"I know," I whispered, tears beading up even more as I looked right into the eyes of a creature I felt honest pain for. She was so pretty with her golden eyes… but her fur wasn't as vibrant or as clean as it should have been. None of the creatures looked as healthy as they should have been. But this wasn't the twenty-first century, either. These people hadn't made huge leaps in humanitarian efforts towards animals. This would have been the commonplace situation for many animals way back when.

And I knew better and it _hurt_. "Dawn, baby," Grandma called gently, coming up next to me. "What's wrong?"

"They don't look healthy," I told her, looking at her. "They don't look _happy_. They're shut up in tiny cages with nothing to do other than sit there and stare at each other and the people gaping at them." My fingers tightened in the fabric of my skirt. "It's… not right. Can we go?" Grandma's eyes distinctly shifted and I knew she looked right at my dad.

"Okay. We'll go," she assured. I guess Dad agreed as his hand fell to my shoulder and squeezed. "Come on."

I walked with them out to the gates, a hand in each of theirs. They didn't say anything and I don't know what looks they exchanged over my head… but I found myself hating the zoo and wishing to change those poor animals' living conditions. After a while, an idea occurred to me and I looked up to Dad. "Daddy?"

"Yes, Xiao-Hua?"

"Do you think it's possible to become someone who can design zoos and stuff using alchemy?" He blinked.

"I suppose it's _possible_ ," he mused thoughtfully, clearly looking to my grandmother over my head. I couldn't see what face she was making, though. "Do you want to do that as a job?" The question was probably somewhat indulgent but the idea of being somewhere between a zoo designer and a veterinarian for those great, beautiful animals was appealing. It was no new idea, truthfully, because almost every kid goes through a phase where they want to be a veterinarian. I had in my previous life, even.

"Possibly," I admitted. "But they were in little cages. I don't know why because I don't think any of _us_ would like to be trapped in tiny cages. I'd like to fix that."

"What would you do?" Grandma asked. "Make bigger cages?" I nodded.

"And put stuff in it that makes it like where they come from. Like put models of trees, so it doesn't rot, in the monkey and bird cages? And rocks and stuff for the lions to climb on with shrubs and whatnot. It'd still have to be cleaned, maybe even have some kind of pool of water between people and the big predators so people wouldn't worry too much about being attacked or the lions climbing out. Make taller fences so that they couldn't climb out but be open to the sky."

"But it would still be a cage," Dad pointed out.

"But people would still want zoos," I returned, feeling a bit better as I talked about this. "It'd be better than what is there _now_."

"Maybe you could see about drawing up some plans and ideas," Dad offered. "And we could see about proposing it to the zoo." I didn't think that was likely but I agreed anyway.

"Okay!"

Once we got back to the house, I immediately began working on these plans. I was realistic enough to know that they'd likely not make the zoo too much bigger, mostly because there would be a need to keep the park it butted against as a park, so I tried to figure out what kind of space was there already. That involved looking at a city map and discussing dimensions with Dad, who seemed amused by my choice for a birthday activity as well as my passionate interest. Pencils and paper came out and I began to try to sketch out things to scale after making a list of all different animals at the zoo. Some animals could be combined, mainly the few herbivores that wouldn't have territorial issues and fight with each other. Some of the birds could be as well, which would free up quite a lot of space.

When Grandpa returned from work, he was amazed by the absolute flurry of papers everywhere, most with writing and drawings and some taped together to create a larger 'to scale' rendition of the zoo and some of its adjacent park. "What's all this?"

"Welcome home, Barty," greeted Grandma as she came in before kissing him. He dropped an arm around her waist as I continued my work after a brief glance at him. Dad was no longer on the floor, content to let me spread out without him interfering and keeping an eye on me. "We… had a little bit of an _incident_ at the zoo…" Her tone was cautious.

"Oh?"

"Yes…" She quickly sketched out the way I'd reacted and I deliberately ignored her as she did so, detailing a potential bird cage for some of the Xingese exotic birds and how a placard could be used to identify each species.

I had become so absorbed that it was a surprise when Grandpa crouched down next to my papers. "This is pretty big. Do you think it'd be possible?"

"They'd have to use some of the park," I admitted.

"Do you think they'd actually do it?" I wanted to say 'yes' because I _wanted_ them to say 'yes' to such plans, but I shrugged instead.

"I don't know. But it's not _right_. And I don't think the people who take care of the animals take that great of care of them." He sighed and stood, knees popping, and I followed his movements from my spot on the floor.

"And how do you guess that, Dawnie?" he asked, moving over to his usual seat. I hesitated.

"Be-Because their fur didn't look that great. It looked… dirty. Greasy."

"And you want to redesign the zoo to help them?" I nodded.

"I'd be better at taking care of them, too!" I insisted.

"You're a little small for that," he hedged.

"When I grow _up_ ," I insisted. "I can be the first ever alchemist who runs a zoo!" There was a pregnant pause before Grandpa burst out into laughter. It wasn't mean laughter and it didn't really hurt my feelings, but I got a little indignant. "Hey!"

"You've got very big dreams, Dawnie," he told me. "And I hope to see you achieve all of them." I grinned.

"You will! I gotta work on my plans!" As I set to work again, I could feel the love for me from all three adults. All I could really focus on was trying to help those poor animals… and make a better zoo overall.

I also contemplated shoving those horrible zookeepers into cages and leave them without the ability to wash or whatever for a few days. It was a bit vindictive, but at least the zoological parks _I'd_ visited in my previous life had made an effort to make the lives of the animals as comfortable as possible.

.

My plans for the zoo did not immediately go anywhere. I knew they wouldn't, but I did carefully put every single page away in a folder that I was provided with all the solemnity of the adult indulging a child by my father. I then put it on the shelf in my room… and went back to school. My birthday party wasn't anything really worth mentioning, mostly because it was more or less the same as the year before, but I did have fun. More fun, at any rate, than I'd had at the zoo.

It did reinforce something, though. I was growing up and it would be soon enough that the worst would happen. Time was running out before Dad would become a State Alchemist. He studied, he worked, and he did everything possible to be there for me… and it was a miracle he'd gotten as far as he had.

But I had a bad feeling when he brought up over dinner one evening that he wanted to go visit his old master. "What brought this on?" Grandpa asked, pausing in cutting up his chicken. I looked at him, too.

"I've been thinking…" He heaved a sigh and looked ashamed. "This is hard to say."

"You mean you want to go reunite with the girl, what's-her-name," Grandma said. Dad looked at her, startled, before he began to blush. He looked down at his plate. "I'm not a fool, Roy," she chided. "And you're still young. Expecting you to remain beholden to Abby for the rest of your life is selfish… mostly because I do want Dawn to have a mother, even if it's a stepmother." I watched the exchange in confusion. Then clarity washed over me.

He wanted to go see if he could get his master's daughter. As I knew they were involved in a military way later on, I knew she'd eventually come into my life but not exactly the 'how' of that. Was this how? "Daddy?" I asked, and his attention immediately turned to me. "Are you going to be gone for a long time again?" He considered this before shaking his head.

"No, Xiao-Hua. It will only be three days." He paused and mulled that over before going on. "Unfortunately, there is something else that will be happening in a few months."

"And what is that?" Grandma asked cautiously.

"I'm being transferred to East City. I'm not the only one, though. There's several other people being moved… and I'm getting a promotion out of it, so that'll mean more money." Considering Dad was a Sergeant Major at the moment, this announcement meant that he would be a Warrant Officer soon.

A fear shot through me. Dad had always before stayed near me except when he couldn't. "Are you going to come back soon?" I asked carefully. He looked to me in surprise.

"Xiao-Hua, it's a permanent transfer."

"Does that mean you're not going to come back?" I asked worriedly. I saw the concern on my grandparents' faces, but the slight smile on Dad's lips didn't seem hateful.

"We can come back to visit, Dawn," he explained gently. "I'm not going to leave you here because you are extremely important to me. I need to see about finding a proper apartment or house for us, but because your grandma and grandpa were really nice and didn't ask me to pay, we can easily get a nice enough place."

"We're leaving Grandma and Grandpa?" I don't know why this was confusing to me, but it was. It made no sense because I'd _always_ had my grandparents around, even when Dad had left to do other things.

Now, I was hearing that we'd be leaving them behind.

"We won't be that far away," Grandma assured, laying a hand on my arm and smiling warmly. I looked at her, still very confused. "And we'll always make sure there's a place for you here when you come and visit. Which you better do." She gave Dad a _very_ level look.

"I will, Sarah."

"Good," she stated flatly. "I still want to see my grandbaby."

"Of course," he tried to mollify her.

"And you, too, you ridiculous man," she sniffed. Grandpa was smirking as Dad blinked.

"Do as she says, son. It's easier for everyone if you do."

.

Dad did leave to go visit the Hawkeye family as he had promised, which left me wondering when he would come back. Not like I spent a lot of time thinking about it because I was faced with school and the prospect that I'd soon be in a different city altogether. It would mean a different school, I realized somewhere during the morning session. It would mean new people. It would mean a lot of things I hadn't even begun to imagine yet.

This was utterly new territory.

And not in that punny sort of way.

Ellie, Maria, and Gray all noticed I was acting off. Even the teacher and some of the other kids I had moderate acquaintances with noticed my odd behavior. It didn't really get better even after school when Uncle Maes popped up almost out of nowhere.

"Rosie!" I blinked at his callout, surprised by his appearance at the school gates. I looked around. "Nope, nope! Just me!" He grinned. "Your grandma left a message for me to come by and get you." I was soon swept up in his arms and I laughed despite my efforts not to.

"Uncle _Maes_!" I whined playfully, hugging him back and feeling the pricking of his short beard against my skin. "I've missed you!"

"I saw you a week ago, kiddo," he laughed, letting me loose. It was true. The man had indeed become Dad's best friend, the other ones having parted ways and gone on to do more of their own things as their lives evolved. It had been hard for my father to lose the friends he'd grown up with though he was still on good terms with them. Despite the shift in friendships, Uncle Maes was something of a constant companion. They worked together (sometimes), generally had lunch together, and the blue-eyed man had been more-or-less adopted into our unconventional family for the sole fact that Uncle Maes had cheerily decided my father would be his friend.

The fact that he complimented Grandma outrageously, adored me, and got on well enough with Grandpa was why Dad hadn't been able to 'get rid' of him. We were also the only family he had in Central.

"Uncle Maes?" I questioned slowly as we began walking towards home.

"Yeah, Rosie?" I also didn't know exactly when or why he'd decided to start calling me 'Rosie', but I guessed he wanted his own nickname for me.

"Dad's going to be going to East City soon."

"I know," he smiled, the expression different than the one before. "And you're going with him."

"But I don't want to go. Grandma and Grandpa are here. _You're_ here. All my friends and my _school_ are here. How will I get to be with everyone if I'm somewhere else?" He looked at me soberly, smile falling, as we paused at the crosswalk to wait for the traffic to go through.

"You won't." He said it honestly. It actually shocked me a little. He smiled slightly, but I saw the sadness there. "You'll probably grow away from your friends at school, but that's okay. The people who matter… Your grandma and grandpa… and even me? We won't forget you if you go away. Because we can always come visit you… or you can come visit us. And we can talk on the phone and write letters. You're really good at writing letters by now, I bet." I nodded quietly. "So, even if you're in another town, we can still be together in a way."

"Will you write me?"

"I'll depend on you to," he smiled. "Your dad's like a real brother, Rosie, which means you're like a real niece to me. And that means we're family." I mulled that over in my mind and then smiled slightly.

"I never had an uncle, really. Not before you."

"I know. Tragedy, right?" he grinned. I grinned in return and we crossed the street. I wasn't happy at all about the move… but I think I could tolerate it a bit better.

"Big tragedy," I agreed. "You're like the ultimate crazy uncle." He actually laughed at that and I giggled, too.

.

" _I'm going to have to delay coming back for a couple more days."_ I blinked at the wall as Dad told me this.

"Why?" He gave a frustrated, aggrieved sigh.

" _My master died while I was here,"_ he told me. My eyes widened. _"I'm not entirely sure what happened, and I'm not going to tell you, but things are complicated and… some of the savings we have are going to have to help Riza bury her father. She doesn't have a lot of money."_

I didn't understand. Was he asking for my _permission_ or something? I didn't know. "Why not?"

" _I'm not entirely certain,"_ he admitted. _"But I'll be home after the funeral, okay?"_

"Okay. Stay safe, Daddy."

" _I will, Xiao-Hua."_

"Give Miss Riza a hug. I… I'm sure it hurt when her daddy died." It was an impulsive offer and I heard him chuckle with an odd tone to it, though I couldn't properly identify it thanks to phone's natural tinny sound.

" _I will, Xiao-Hua,"_ he assured, repeating himself. _"Hand me to your grandpa, alright?"_

"Alright." I solemnly did as told, handing the receiver over to Grandpa and he took it, thanking me, before pressing it to his ear.

"Yes, Roy?" There was a babble of Dad's voice before he answered. Unfortunately, it was just indistinct enough for me to miss some of his words. "Hold on, one moment. Dawn, go on and help your Grandma, alright?" I stared at him for the blatant dismissal. "Go, Dawn," he commanded, and I immediately did as told. It didn't matter if I gave imploring glances over my shoulder, he stared after me as he began speaking again. I couldn't disobey, so I went to Grandma.

"Hello, there. Done talking to your daddy?" she asked, smiling at me.

"Yes," I said sadly. "Grandpa made me leave. I think he didn't want me listening in."

"Oh?" I nodded. "Why?"

"Daddy's teacher died… He's staying a little longer to help with the funeral." Grandma's eyes widened at the words.

"What?" I nodded, sad and a bit confused. "Oh, dear. I suppose he feels responsible. He's that sort of person." She smoothed a hand over my hair, comforting me without words. "He'll be back soon, sweetie. Promise."

"I know," I whispered.

.

Dad did eventually come back. He always did, of course. He came back obviously worn and emotionally drained but he came back with a gift. It was, surprisingly, another stuffed horse. I stared at it in the middle of the train station, taking in the pure white 'fur'. I looked at Dad, taking in his slight smirk of a smile. "This one is a 'her'," he advised gently. "Riza had bought it some months ago, hoping to eventually get it to you. She named it 'Snow'." I took it, cradling it close.

"Why?"

"I admit to talking about you a lot. She remembered that and gave it to me before I left so I could give it to you for her."

"Oh…"

"I thanked her for you, too."

"Is she okay even though her daddy's gone?" I asked worriedly. His smile fell.

"No. She won't be able to be okay for a long while."

"What about her mom?"

"Her mom died a long time ago. Before you were born, actually." That was a shock and I looked down at the horse in my arms. He reached to me and smoothed a hand over my hair, caught in a low ponytail today, and I looked back up. "Let's go home, Xiao-Hua."

"Okay."

He stood and smiled at my grandparents. "Let's go home," agreed Grandpa.

.

"Only one bedroom? No, that won't be any good. Thank you. Good afternoon." The clang of the receiver coming to fall on the rest was becoming familiar. The phone itself had been relocated to the table, the long wire helping a good deal with that. He drew an 'X' through the listing before him. Picking up the phone again, he dialed the next number to begin the process all over again.

He was looking for an apartment or a townhome for us that had to fit several criteria. One, it had to have two bedrooms minimum. Two, it had to be convenient to the military complex in East City. Three, it had to be located near a decent school. Four, it had to be in good condition. Five, it had to be affordable.

There was no such thing as a house mortgage, or so I guessed, because there wasn't a bit of talk about 'financing' or 'affordable payments'. I watched his work in between my own efforts at homework. Boring as it was, I _did_ have to do it.

Dad was trying to compile a list of options to go look at over the weekend. Because he was being relocated and he had a child, the military was being nice enough to permit him time to actually look for something outside the barracks. It made an overwhelming amount of sense, truthfully, and part of it was fascinating. As soon as he figured something out, he'd buy it, see about furnishing it some, and move us in.

As this would be his first home, there were some things Grandma and Grandpa were going to give him. In fact, I knew that there was a set of older dishes that my grandparents would be soon be giving to us because Grandma insisted. Along with those dishes came something I'd never seen before but when it had been named, Dad had noticeably stilled in surprise. It was called a hope chest. I had asked what that meant only to be informed of something very important.

It had been my mother's and had various things she'd collected in hope of her future marriage. The chest itself had once belonged to Grandma's mother, then to her, and then to my mother. It was old, of stained cedar, and sturdy. Then, Grandma had told me as we'd looked over the contents it would now be mine. I had been singularly shocked because the adult part of me recognized the significance even if the rest of me wasn't that amazed. There had been a couple different tablecloths, doilies, two quilts, and other items that my mother had reputedly made herself. Things, my grandmother insisted, would help make a home. My father had been deeply moved by the gesture and had thanked her profusely.

Neither of us had thought to investigate the insides of the chest before, mostly because we'd never had an interest to do so. It was assumed Grandma's, and therefore it was impolite to snoop. It had sat quietly at the end of the hall completely undisturbed for my entire life so far as I was aware.

Now, it was mine.

And now Dad was hunting for a place for us to be. This conversation was very similar as the previous conversation. Where was it located? What was the nearest school like? How many bedrooms?

He spent each and every night doing this until he had a possible range of places. Now, he hung up the phone and sat back with a sigh as he looked over his list.

"Doing alright?" Grandma asked of him.

"I'm fine," he replied, looking at her. "I think I have enough to make a trip." He handed her the list and she took it, examining it.

"I suggest going to the library and locating them according to a map," she advised. "You can get a better idea of proximity to Eastern Headquarters if you do. That way, you can maybe narrow your list down."

"Good idea," Dad agreed. "I can do that tomorrow evening if you don't mind?"

"Not at all."

He smiled wryly, glancing at me and noticing my attentiveness. "It's hard being grown up," he mused. "But I don't want to leave a certain someone behind again." She smiled at me, too.

"Of course."

.

Dad's examination of a book caught my attention one evening when I impulsively went to be with him. It was a small leather-bound journal with writing in it and he looked at me in surprise when I'd climbed onto his bed. "Hello, Xiao-Hua. Done with your bath?" I nodded.

"All squeaky!" He chuckled. "What's that?"

"A gift. Riza gave it to me." My curiosity was piqued and I looked in interest at the pages. My eyes fell on an intricate sketch and my breath caught as I saw the transmutation circle. It looked vaguely familiar. Decorated with a flame symbol, some kind of lizard, and an odd series of triangles woven together into an hourglass shape, I had a feeling I knew how this circle wasn't alien. This would be the path Dad would take to become the person in the comic.

"Alchemy," I murmured.

"Yes," he agreed, allowing me to cuddle close. "This is what my master invented."

"And Miss Riza gave it to you?" I asked in wonder. He nodded. "What's it do?"

"It's supposed to create fire. See here? That's a salamander, a creature closely associated with fire. And that's fire itself." I considered it. "Do you remember why there are two circles, one in the other?"

"The shapes outside the inner circle help you do the transmutation _outside_ the limits of the circle," I told him. He nodded. "And the triangles help direct it?"

"Very good. You're right. With this, I'll become a State Alchemist." I looked up at him and I saw the hope.

"You will," I said confidently. He smiled at me.

"With you by my side, I don't doubt it."

-/-/-/-

Thanks for reading. **Please review.**


	8. In Which We Learn Alchemy

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 8: In Which We Learn Alchemy

.

My father had the method in which he would become the Flame Alchemist. I hadn't even realized he'd gotten it, but now he had the path to greatness. It meant one more thing ticked off before he'd be taken to Ishval. He'd gotten it from Miss Riza, the daughter of his master. Her gift to me featured largely next to my other two horses, Horsey and Spots, on my bed. Dad went on to find and secure that place we'd be living before returning to speak of his triumph. Apparently, he'd gotten very lucky and we'd gotten an apartment that fit his criteria well enough and it wasn't too expensive overall… or so he told us when he returned, obviously pleased.

At that point, I learned we would have to start packing, which would require boxes. Lots of boxes. Those boxes would have to be shipped via truck, then train, and then truck again to the new place. It was apparently an apartment building in a nicer area of the neighborhoods surrounding the complex that my father would be working in. His description included the fact that it was on the third floor, the highest floor of the building, and had a balcony. It also had three bedrooms instead of the required two and was a corner apartment that looked out on the street we would be living on. He sounded utterly excited about the prospect.

I was not so thrilled. I didn't want to pack up my things or move to some new city. I didn't want to leave my grandparents, both of whom had lives and a home here. Even though Dad said something about setting up the third room as a guest room so that Grandma and Grandpa would have a place to stay when they visited, I wasn't happy. I guess my child instincts were still there though they'd not been very noticeable as I had been behaving more or less as I wanted. But they were objecting now.

"It's going to be okay, Dawn," assured Grandpa, sitting with me after I'd vented some of my distaste for moving to him one evening. "We can come and visit. And you can come and visit us." I was sitting with my knees drawn up to my chin as I sulked.

"But I don't want to. We're supposed to be all together. We're supposed to be _together_. Not… spread out. Separate."

"We will be in our hearts, Dawnie," he assured. "Even if we're kilometers apart, we're still close together in here." He tapped on his chest, right over his heart, and I stared at him morosely. "Don't make this harder on your dad, okay? He has to move but he doesn't want to leave any more than you do."

"Then why can't he tell his boss he wants to stay here?" I whined.

"Because he works for the military, sweetie, and if they say to do something, he has to do it. Leaving the military would be the only way to not go." And he wouldn't. He _couldn't_. He had to find the brothers or they had to find him. I couldn't remember which way it was, but they were going to meet somehow. He had to become the Flame Alchemist. I hugged my knees closer.

"It's not fair."

"Sometimes life isn't very fair." I looked at him and he sighed wearily. "Alright, what if you stayed here?"

"I could?"

"But you wouldn't have your dad." My eyes widened, my hopefulness completely dashed. "Who do you want to be with more? Us or your dad?" I knew what I'd say. It would have to be my dad.

"Daddy."

"Then you have to move." I swallowed thickly and nodded. "And you should stop giving him such a hard time about it. It's not fun, but you should try to help him as much as possible, sweetie. You're going to be the main person he has to rely on when you two move. And that'll be hard because he's always had us around to help him. So, he's going to have to have you to help him because we won't be there to help him anymore." I nodded again. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Now, stop being so stubborn and go pack some things."

.

It didn't take long before we did have to move. I informed my friends at school, my father informed the school I was being transferred to another one and got a transcript of what I'd done so far, and our things would soon be shipped off to East City, the new address listed on each crate. It was actually amazing how quickly a couple of months could burn by.

Dad was given two days to settle in to his new place, which included going to East City in the first place _and_ getting me enrolled in school, and he figured out train schedules so that the last day of his duty in Central was also the same day we would take the train to East City. It was tightly scheduled, and my grandparents and I went to the station to meet him there. I had a case of the most essential clothes and things I needed for immediate comfort (including my three horses) though it was in Grandma's hand instead of mine. Grandpa had Dad's case.

When Dad appeared, he was clearly puffing and flushed, indicators he'd run a good bit to get to the station on time. "Are you alright?" Grandma asked in concern as I instantly moved forward.

"Yes," he panted. "I'm fine. I rushed, though." She nodded.

"I see." I wrapped my arms around my dad's waist and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, offering comfort to me even now.

"I wish we weren't going, honestly, or that you two could come with us. I haven't had to do much myself because of you two."

"Well, Dawn is bright enough to learn," Grandpa assured. "And she's been helping her grandma out in the kitchen often enough that she could help you in the kitchen. At worst, you'll just have to buy a cookbook and the two of you spend some time experimenting and learning. It's not that hard."

"Says the man that only knows how to make sandwiches," Grandma muttered as Dad looked down at me and I looked up. Grandpa gave her an injured look.

"Well, we can't linger long," Dad said aloud. "You have the tickets?" Grandma handed over the envelope she'd been very careful to bring and he checked inside. "Good. Very good." He looked to the two older adults, my grandparents. "And all the stuff was loaded and shipped here, right?"

"Yes," assured Grandpa. "It's all already in East City and in your apartment by now." Dad had informed us that he'd left a key with an older neighbor just down the hall so that she could let the movers take things into the apartment. I had a feeling I'd become very well acquainted with this neighbor of ours. There was a good chance she'd be my after-school watcher. There was an odd sound and I turned and saw the tears standing in Grandma's eyes. She had a handkerchief out and was dabbing her eyes as she looked at us.

"Grandma?" I asked, worried. She looked down at me and offered a weak little smile.

"It's alright, baby girl," she assured me. "Don't mind me."

"You're upset," I noted solemnly. My eyes were starting to burn, too.

"Well, I'm not going to get to see you every day," she replied. "And that's going to be hard to deal with. I'm going to miss you. We both are." She took Grandpa's hand as she said this.

"I'm going to miss you, too," I told her. She gave another little hiccup and dabbed again.

"I won't take her away forever," Dad told her. "I won't forget that promise I gave you all those years ago."

"You better not!" chided Grandma, emotion running high in her voice and making it brittle. Grandpa grasped her to his side, his eyes shining suspiciously, too. "I didn't want to love you, Roy. Not after what happened to Abby! But you proved me wrong at _every_ turn! You have been a treasure and I sorely regret keeping her from you." Dad's grip on me tightened a bit. My eyes burned a little at the backhanded compliment that was kinder at second glance than at first glance.

"They need to go, Sarah," Grandpa told her gently.

"I know!"

"I'll let you know when I take my week leave every year," Dad assured her. "And we'll come here to visit you. Promise. And you two can always come to visit us during the weeks I have to work."

"We will," Grandpa assured. "And we'll try to visit as much as we can." He looked to me. "I love you, little one."

I disentangled from Dad to hug them both. "I love you, too!" I declared as they hugged me. Soon, Dad was joining in, forming a big family group hug.

But the hug couldn't last forever and Dad soon had to guide me to the train we were to take to East City. I had my case this time as he had his and we walked to the proper platform before climbing aboard the big train, my grandparents right behind us but falling short at the platform. They didn't get on the train. It was the first time I'd ever been on one and I looked around in amazement and then some distaste. There were very thin cushions lining the benches, which meant they wouldn't soften the wood beneath very much. Dad slotted his case above us in the luggage rack before taking mine. I climbed onto the bench I guess we picked, looking towards the front of the train, and he sat down next to me soon after. He let me have the window seat and I looked out at the milling people. Grandpa and Grandma had followed us to our chosen seats on the outside of the train and were standing near the window we were at.

Dad opened it, allowing the smog of the station to waft in and they drew a little closer upon seeing the opening. "Well, what do you think?" I realized they were speaking more to me and I looked around the train car.

"Doesn't look very comfy." Grandpa laughed at my words as Grandma continued dabbing. Dad petted at the fall of my hair.

"I'm sure it isn't. I never really liked trains either," he confided. I considered that and nodded.

"Not fun?"

"Not really. But you've got a window seat, so that should help some."

"Why?"

"You can watch the countryside go by. And there's still enough daylight that you'll be able to watch a lot."

"Thank you again," Dad said from behind me. "For everything you've done." More people were entering the train car and some were settling nearby to have their own conversations with those on the platform.

"This isn't the end, son," assured Grandpa. "You're not going to another world."

"I know."

"Be safe, alright? Let us know when you get there." He looked at me. "And write often? I'm not the only one who wants to hear from you." A shout was heard and a number of people turned at the sound. Heavy footfalls sounded and suddenly Grandpa was shifting to catch the arm of the blue-clothed man who suddenly appeared.

"I'm not late!" exulted Uncle Maes as he righted himself, brightly grinning.

"Don't you have manners, young man?" demanded Grandma. I was giggling. I could almost _feel_ Dad rolling his eyes. Grandpa snorted, eyes dancing merrily.

"Yes, but I was late," Uncle Maes said, completely unrepentant. "You can forgive me for that, right?"

"I suppose," Dad said in a long-suffering tone. The bright smile was worth it, though, and I giggled again.

"Someone forgives me," Uncle Maes said cockily, reaching through the window to cruelly ruffle my hair. I yelped in horror, scrambling away from him and right into my dad behind me.

"Don't do that!"

"Elbow, Xiao-Hua!" he gasped.

"Sorry." Elbow safely extracted, I pouted at Uncle Maes.

"Sorry," he echoed me. "Didn't mean to get you, Roy." There was a piercing whistle and shouting on the platform. "Oh, the train's about to leave," he noted. "Come here, Rosie." I gave him a somewhat awkward hug through the window and pecked him on the cheek. He hugged me a bit tighter for a moment when I did that before letting me go again. "Be good for your dad, alright?" He looked behind me even as I agreed. "And you be good for this cutie, alright?" he teased Dad.

"I will, Hughes." Uncle Maes moved aside and Grandma and Grandpa took his place. I got kissed by them and returned the favor.

"Like he said, be good for your dad," Grandma told me, smiling though tears now streamed unchecked down her cheeks. I was crying, too, I realized.

"Yeah. I will," I mumbled, barely noticing when I felt Dad's arms around me. Grandpa tugged Grandma away when the train lurched.

"Love you, Dawnie," Grandpa told me. I was sobbing too much to even manage a coherent sentence in return. By the time I had any composure, the train was moving out of the station and I wouldn't be able to tell him the same.

Dad held me, murmuring comforts to me as we trundled down the track and far from everything I'd ever known.

After a while, though, I did calm a bit and take interest in the surrounding countryside that shot past the now-closed window. I observed it quietly, Dad holding me close the entire time. "Do you see that, Xiao-Hua?" he asked encouragingly even as I saw what I guessed he was indicating.

"The lake?" I asked, dazzled by the sunlight reflecting off of it even at this distance.

"Yes."

"It's pretty."

"Yes, it is." We sat for a while, watching the body of water pass out of our range of vision, hidden by both trees and hills. "I promise, Xiao-Hua, it'll be alright." I knew it would be but it still didn't change the fact that I hurt and felt lost.

"Yes, sir," I murmured in response only to feel him hug me a little more.

.

East City looked largely like Central in terms of architecture. The train station was different but more-or-less built the same. The world outside was immediately different, though, and I held my father's hand as we exited. He guided me along, aware that I'd be too busy looking around to be minding where I was going. I took in the sight of greengrocers, clothing shops, bookshops, butchers, and everything in between. It was the same as Central… but different, too.

Dad guided me through intersections, keeping a hand on me at all times. After a longish walk, we arrived at a building that didn't look any different than the rest. It was three stories tall and a solid-looking brick façade. The light was quickly fading from the world when Dad looked down at me. "This is it." I blinked at the four large brass numbers arranged to declare '1123' next to the double doors.

"It is?" I saw him nod.

"See that one right there?" He pointed to the left hand side of the building to the highest floor. "That's ours." I considered it before nodding slowly. I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of going up two flights of stairs every day just to go home, but it would be no different than the narrow business that Aunt Chris had had. I realized that I'd not been seen off by her or any of her employees, and that hurt a little. Then again, Dad had gone to visit her during the period of time leading up to our move, so she probably had already known what was going to happen.

We entered the building and slowly climbed up the stairs past the office and the row of post office boxes embedded into the wall. Our apartment turned out to have a small placard attached denoting '3B'. Apartment 'B' on the third floor, I guessed. Dad took a key and unlocked the door to what would be our new home.

Inside was underwhelming. There were boxes _everywhere_ just _piled_ up. I could see the signs of furniture here and there, which might have been included in the apartment or bought by Dad. "What do you think?" he asked, a tinge of worry in his tone. I looked up at him.

"It's messy," I pointed out, clearly hearing my disappointment.

"Yes, you're right," he agreed. "But we'll work on that tomorrow and the day after to make it easier. Okay?"

"Okay." I didn't immediately turn loose of his hand so, after he latched the door shut, he guided me through the piles to a door.

"This is your room," he told me, opening the door. Inside was, not very shockingly, in a kind of disarray. It was, however, a similar size to the bedroom I'd left behind but with bigger windows. I let go of his hand and wandered over to the glass panes and saw that it looked out over the street not on the side of the front doors. I turned to look at Dad and saw his sadness even through his smile.

Instead of saying anything (as I didn't know what to say), I went to him and hugged him. He hugged me right back, of course. "It'll get better, Dawn," he told me. "I promise."

We worked to put my bed together properly, Dad citing that we could put it in a better spot later once we unpacked some more if I wanted to. I liked the idea of putting my bed next to a window so I could look out of it. Then again, I didn't know for certain.

Once it was together, Dad took me into his room and we shuffled the bed into working order. "I know this crate has linens," he muttered, going after one particular box he'd had marked out special. With some effort, he pried it apart and I helped him put sheets on our beds for the night.

After that, we needed food and he helpfully drew me along back out the door. "We'll get some food for breakfast tomorrow, too," he told me.

"What about calling Grandma and Grandpa?" I asked.

"Food _first_ ," he insisted. "And then we'll see about phoning your grandma and grandpa."

"Okay."

.

The next two days were _busy_. Dad introduced me to the lady in '3A' just down the hall and next to the stairs. She was old, wrinkly, and smelled of tobacco and cookies. It was oddly nice in a very _weird_ sort of way, and smiled kindly with dark eyes. She was also distinctly Xingese. "Your little one is adorable, Mr. Mustang," she complimented me. Dad smiled. "If you need anything, just let me know. Alright?"

"Of course, Mrs. Liu. I appreciate having help."

After that, we went on to register me for school and discovered that there was no uniform at this one. That actually made Dad quite a bit relieved. He didn't have to buy uniforms and I placed well enough that I was advanced a grade. I wasn't exactly happy with that but Dad consoled me with something I'd not anticipated. "Stay where you've been placed," he said as we went back out to the street, "and I'll start teaching you alchemy."

"Really?" He nodded.

"You're old enough," Dad cited decisively. "And your grandmother isn't anywhere close enough to stop me, so don't tell her, alright?" I nodded seriously, internally grinning at the victory and the fear that Dad obviously still felt as far as my grandmother was concerned. Not that I was going to disagree.

"Okay!"

"And I have to study, too." I knew immediately what he was talking about and brightened further.

"Can I learn that alchemy, too?" He shook his head.

"It's very advanced so, no, not anytime soon. You have to learn the basics before you can do something so advanced." I nodded seriously.

"So, start learning tonight?" I asked.

"After dinner. Yes."

Still, the work was grueling and we certainly didn't finish unpacking completely. I still had a stack of things I hadn't been able to completely put away. The living area still had a lot of stuff there. Even though the balcony was nice enough, we had nothing out there for it except for laundry (and the washers were down in the basement, so we didn't have to worry about going somewhere else to wash our clothes). Dad's room was virtually barren because all he had was his bed, an armoire, and a nightstand. The living area was moderately more populated, featuring a slightly tatty couch, a trunk pretending to be a coffee table, a pair of wingback chairs that weren't that comfortable, an end table between them with a lamp on it, and a lot of books on the built-in shelves. In place of what would have been a fireplace anywhere else, we had a wall of bookshelves. It was _awesome_ and _all_ our books as well as all our pictures and special keepsakes went on those shelves in an attractive clutter of warmth. The cabinets below that also got some things stuffed in them and our kitchen, merely a corner fitted with all the usual appliances and a small pantry bracketed against the fridge, blended and was a bit close to the four-person square table that would be our dining area. My room had a bed, armoire, my hope chest, and a nightstand with a lamp. The apartment was not very spacious overall but it was warm enough, I supposed.

That evening we sat down to teach me the beginning steps of alchemy. I knew how to draw transmutation circles; I knew all about chemistry; I also knew a lot about alchemy despite my grandmother's efforts. However, I had no idea about physical application and I wouldn't learn it until my father believed I had a good grasp and understanding of all the theory that would be required to even _attempt_ a transmutation. Rules were beat into my head with an insistence that I'd never really experienced before. 'Conservation of Mass' and 'Conservation of Energy' were merely theoretical concepts up until one added alchemy. There was always 'loss' except when using alchemy. Then the 'loss' was generally less if it existed at all. It wasn't that the molecules were destroyed or the energy went 'poof' but rather they'd dispersed rather than remained in the equation. 'Equivalent Exchange' summed these two laws up but it also seemed to extend into a philosophy for some alchemists.

All I knew was that Dad was extremely insistent that I learn the _right_ way and not simply muddle through the first few lessons by myself like he had. I also was _very_ aware of how much effort it took to learn all of this mess.

I remembered that the story of the golden-haired boy made alchemy look extremely easy despite being a complex science. I was quickly disabused of the idea that it was anywhere _close_ to being easy. Maybe for geniuses but not for me.

Still, Dad assured me that it was always hard at first before shooing me to take a bath and get ready for bed. Tomorrow, I had school. I wasn't permitted to skip.

.

"Class, meet Dawn Mustang," my new teacher, Miss Quinn, said cheerily enough. She was blonde, dressed professionally, and had way too many white teeth. I remembered another 'Quinn' with such qualities and she'd been overly fond of big hammers and 'Mister J'. I wasn't exactly happy about it, but I held my tongue. "She's transferred here from Central!" All I saw was a lot of children who were all a year older… and most likely not that wonderful. "Tell us a little about yourself, Dawn," encouraged the teacher. I sent her a sharp look of alarm, not having expected to speak any. My gaze snapped back to the semi-bored, semi-expectant class.

"Ah…" Great. "I, um…" I swallowed and decided to list simple facts. That should be more than enough. "I'm Dawn Mustang, my father transferred here from Central Headquarters and he's military and brought me with him, I'm six, and I really like to read."

A hand shot up. "Miss Quinn! Isn't she too little to be here?" asked a girl with curls and looked like a real-life blonde baby-doll in her pink ruffled dress only minus the bonnet. Instead, she had a ribbon in her hair. I frowned at the words.

"She moved ahead of her year-level after being tested," Miss Quinn told the girl firmly. "Therefore, she was advanced a grade level after proving she could handle the courses."

I was currently dressed in a neat little dress of blue-gray with white lace accents and my hair had been braided by my father in a long plait with a bow tied to the end. He'd been rather proud of it and of me as a whole (as typically he'd never had to dress me for school before) and I felt very much on display.

A moment later, I was nudged gently in a direction. "Sit in the seat next to Warren," the teacher told me. "Warren, hold up your hand." A hand went up even though I knew where I was being directed. There was only _one_ open desk that direction and I soon found myself going down the aisle to the appropriate seat. Settling down, I looked around at my closest classmates. This was far different than the classroom I'd been in previously but it wasn't an alien setup. I noted Warren even as he lowered his hand, taking in his dark skin and close-cropped curly black hair. He was a rarity in this country, considered more exotic than myself because his ancestry was from an entirely _different_ continent. Xing was at least on the same continent as Amestris. In front of me was another boy but looked Amestrian in origin with his pale blonde hair. His hair was messy and stuck up in a number of directions at once. He was looking over his shoulder at me and I caught sight of curious honey brown eyes and a narrow nose. To the other side of me was a girl, also with blonde hair and blue-green eyes. That didn't even include the other kids surrounding me, all a year older and therefore a lot bigger. And all of them were looking at me with interest.

I felt very, very out of place.

Then it came to class itself and I realized that it was still not that interesting or engaging because I already knew the math she was teaching us.

I did encounter a problem when she asked me and another three students to answer problems on the board. It wasn't so much the math itself but rather how I answered it. I took one look at it and instantly figured out the answer before writing it down. "Dawn, you didn't work out the problem," chastised Miss Quinn with a frown and I looked at the other students who were writing out the solution step by step on their problems. I even heard a few titters in the class.

"Yes, I did," I countered calmly. "Just because I do it in my head didn't mean I didn't work it out." She frowned a bit more disapprovingly. I considered her before giving a very annoyed sigh and quickly wrote the 'how' onto the board before turning back to her. She was still staring. "It's basic math and I do harder work at home."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Like what?" asked the pugnacious girl who had also been called up to the board. I hesitated a moment too long and she snickered at my failure to answer.

"Alchemy," I murmured before speaking up a bit louder. "I'm learning alchemy and it's more complicated than this." Miss Quinn blinked in surprise. "And Daddy taught me how to work out math in my head on stuff like this when I was four. It was one of our games." I clenched my hands into the fabric of my dress, feeling foolish at the shocked expression on the woman's face.

"Then why are you in _my_ class?" she asked.

"Daddy thinks I need friends my age," I muttered, looking down.

"Very well, then. Go sit back down. But next time work out the problems for everyone else. That way they learn, too." I nodded and went back to my seat.

Stares from my classmates followed me back to my desk.

.

Lunch wasn't really any better. I got my food and ate in silence because everyone else went to their own little groups and did their own things. I read from the alchemy book Dad let me take to school so long as I took care of it. I read the words carefully, far too aware of the sidelong glances and the murmurs.

When Miss Quinn came over, I looked up. "Are you alright?" I blinked at her.

"Yes?"

"You're alone," she pointed out unnecessarily.

"I know," I replied simply. The response clearly unnerved her a little.

"Are you okay with that?" I nodded.

"Daddy said it might happen because kids don't take well to new people at first but that it would get better."

"Really? What about your mother?"

"It's just me and Daddy," I deferred, not wanting to get all into it. She frowned at my admission but didn't continue to press. "He had to change to switch schools when he was little, too. He said it took about two weeks before he made a friend and that would probably be the same for me, too."

"Your father sounds like a smart man," mused the teacher. I nodded with a grin and held up my book.

"This is his! He's teaching me with it!" Miss Quinn looked at the complicated diagrams and words and her eyes notably widened.

"You definitely understand this?"

"I was copying circles when I was a baby, Daddy says," I said proudly. "But he wouldn't teach me until now. He used to read them to me when he studied while taking care of me, too!" So it was a bit of shameless boasting. Who cared?

"Well, if you're sure you're okay," hedged the woman. I nodded, drawing my book back to myself. And with that, she left me alone.

.

Dad's progress on his fire alchemy went predictably considering he was playing with fire. He set things on _fire_ , of course. Thankfully, it was mostly the surface of the table and the paper on it but he did make sure everything was out of the way (including burnable little girls) before he tried anything.

Then he set about trying out the equation. Looking back, I could tell you it was absolutely hilarious. Watching it? Well…

"Dad!" I squawked as a puff of flame made him yelp and throw himself back. On the table, the circle he'd drawn curled with flame as the paper burned. Then he was lunging forward to pat out the flames he'd conjured with swift slaps of the hand. "Are you alright?" He looked at me, sheepish.

"I'm fine," he told me. I looked at the table that had fortunately not burned along with the paper.

"You charred it." He looked at the table, too, taking in the black smear.

"Yes… I think we could hide that with a tablecloth?" I groaned. "Xiao-Hua, don't make fun of me."

"Daddy, you're going to burn off your eyebrows if you do that again." He huffed, picking up the journal he had the information of the fire alchemy in.

"It's not that bad," he told me as he began scrawling out something in his book. It was likely the observations he'd made and what variables he'd used. "Now get back so I can try again."

"If you lose your eyebrows, I'm telling Grandma," I threatened. He gave me an annoyed look.

"You aren't supposed to do that, you know," he told me.

"Well, she can make sure you do what you're supposed to. And don't burn your nose off, either. You'd look funny."

"Dawn!"

"Can we do my alchemy lesson now?" I asked cheekily.

"You tell your grandmother and I'll cut off those lessons of yours." My eyes widened at the threat.

"That's not fair!"

"Don't use that 'F' word on me." I blinked at the rebuttal and then sulked. Dad _definitely_ won that round.

.

Dad's fire alchemy had retained that 'nearly combust himself' edge for a few more experiments until he began to understand why his alchemy was doing certain things. Then, he started progressing.

Thankfully, he didn't cut off my alchemy lessons and taught me all the basics before permitting me to transmute a piece of rough wood with directions to turn it into a perfect cube.

It did not happen immediately, of course, and I had a number of failed attempts before I even got it right. I focused on the circle, the form I wanted to make the bit of wood into, and the equations to make it happen.

And it finally did. Arcs of lightning sizzled and snapped into existence, lighting up the room with haphazard light. I lost it then and the transmutation stopped instantly but it was obvious that something had happened.

"Well, you did pretty well, Xiao-Hua," Dad encouraged. I looked away from the lopsided and lumpy thing that only had a couple edges _like_ a cube.

"No, I didn't," I countered sourly.

"You changed it," he pointed out. I rolled my eyes. "Don't do that. What do you think you did wrong?"

"The light surprised me and I lost focus," I replied instantly, eyes lowered in shame.

"Is that so?" I nodded at my lumpy failure. "This is a simple transmutation, Dawn. Losing focus on something more complex could result in a disastrous rebound." I looked up and saw his stern look.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"Now, try again. And don't lose focus."

"Yes, sir." Despite the fact he was my father, he was something of a taskmaster. He was exacting with alchemy, having told me that double checking my work was more important than hurrying up to the actual transmutation.

I tried again, this time ensuring I didn't get distracted or surprised. This time, the lightning sizzled and reformed the lump into the proper shape. I stared at the shape before realizing the explosion of sound I heard was actually Dad shouting in glee.

"You did it!" he celebrated as my mind started to shift into higher gear again. "You did it! My little girl's an alchemist!" Excitement buzzed in my veins as I felt a grin split my face and I looked up at him with glee.

"I did it!"

"You did it!" I jumped from my seat to go around and hug him. He seized me close, laughing in my ear. "Oh, I'm so _proud_ of you!" I looked up at him, pressed as I was against his chest.

"Can we do it again?" I asked.

"Absolutely!" On the table sat my wooden block, completely square and _amazing_.

.

Alchemy consumed my evenings after I finished homework. There were the simple exercises where Dad made me transmute various materials into perfect cubes. I had to transmute glass, brass, bronze, iron, steel, and various kinds of stone. I also had to make them exactly the same size as my first wood cube to refine my transmutation techniques. Dad measured each and every one. If I messed up, he made me do it again.

Comparatively, his fire alchemy was starting to go much smoother and he'd begun to experiment with ways to 'throw' fire and his efforts towards alchemy were being noticed by the military for he showed them he was practicing to become a State Alchemist and therefore got leave to practice in a more secure environment with the deadly ability. He spent evenings trying to figure out the best style for implementing the alchemy.

Despite all this alchemy going on and our attentions focused on our growth, I still missed Grandma and Grandpa. I missed Uncle Maes and Aunt Chris. I missed all the girls and Tim and Ellie. I missed all my friends I'd made.

On the other hand, I was slowly garnering friendships so I wasn't completely alone. Oh, they were more like _acquaintances_ , but it was turning out that the girl that had objected to me being in the class in the first place and had been a bit of a brat to me when I was doing my very first demonstration of my intelligence had turned out to be one of the friendlier ones. Her name was Laura Kidd and she was very talkative and really interested in the fact I was learning alchemy. She was also put out that I told her I wouldn't use alchemy away from my father. I detected that it wasn't actually out of maliciousness that she was upset. Alchemy was taken as more of a sort of magic for the normal people. One could become an alchemist with enough effort but for some? It was out of the realm of understanding for a good portion of people. The fact I was learning as young as I was typically astonished people.

Of course, amid all of this I was writing letters. I wrote to Grandma and Grandpa about the things I was learning (sans alchemy) and about school and the people I'd met. I wrote to Uncle Maes about the same sort of things but included things I'd observed. He liked it when I made observations about people and paid attention to my surroundings. I wrote a letter to Ellie and Tim, too. I wrote to Aunt Chris and the girls. I wrote a lot, really. Dad encouraged it.

It also turned out that Mrs. Liu was a great asset according to Dad. All that was required was that I knock on the door and let her know that I was coming or going as Dad left before I went to school. She sometimes asked me to help her down the stairs in the morning but that was fine. Otherwise, she was always there and Dad used her as a marker if I wasn't in the apartment. It also turned out that she was a widow, all her children had moved on and had families of their own in other towns where work took them. It meant that she adored having me there because I was part Xingese and she loved that.

Still, I finished the year out as Dad continued his experiments with fire alchemy.

.

I was watching Dad as he tinkered with the awkward setup he'd created. Making a spark was the easiest way to activate the circle, or so he had decided. He'd tried using a lighter but it seemed unwieldy and able to be taken from him to me.

"Are you sure about that?" I asked, thinking back through hazy memory. I didn't remember him wielding a lighter in the comic. He gave me an annoyed look.

"Dawn. Really?" I gave him an utterly innocent look. "It's the best I've got."

"But what if it gets knocked out of your hand?" I asked. His exasperation was painfully obvious.

"This is the best solution I've _got_ ," he reiterated. "The flint and steel was _worse_." I pondered on this before going forward again.

"What about putting the transmutation circle on your hand? Like that weird guy that we met?" Kimblee scared me a lot. I tried to tell Dad about my uneasiness, but he didn't like my phrasing and immediately dismissed it.

"I told you to not say that and, no, I won't get a tattoo."

"It's true and I didn't say to tattoo it." He gave me a perfectly exasperated look. "What if you did something more interesting?"

"Like? And how would you solve my spark issue?" He was listening rather than just outright shutting me down, so I considered it progress. I got down off my chair and went to his room. Since I was home most of the time during the summer, checkups with Mrs. Liu notwithstanding, I was slowly helping put things truly in order. Dad had found it very helpful.

I brought back a plain set of dress gloves. They were thin, well-tailored, and made out of white cotton. He frowned at them. "What if you sewed it onto this? Or drew it?" He took one, pulling it on.

"This doesn't solve the issue of the spark necessary, Xiao-Hua," he reminded me. I considered that but was at loss for how he'd made the sparks with his fingertips. "But it's an intriguing idea."

"Snapping?" He looked at me though I didn't quite notice it. I'd remembered he'd snapped in the comic.

"What?"

"What if you figured out a way to make sparks by snapping your fingers?"

"They won't do that. See?" He slipped on the glove and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened, of course. I nodded slowly.

"But what if you did something…? I don't know. To fix it up?" He considered that before nodding slowly as his eyes drifted to his momentarily-discarded lighter.

"You might be onto something, Xiao-Hua. I've got an idea." I looked at him expectantly. "Thank you. Now, go practice."

"Okay!"

I did know one thing. Dad would have eventually figured out the glove thing. I probably only accelerated it by a little bit. Maybe a few months.

Regardless, he was on the right track and I'd helped him get there a bit faster. Would this disrupt things? I didn't know. But I don't think I cared very much at that moment.

-/-/-/-

Thank you for reading. **Please review.**


	9. In Which I Get a Book

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Reviews: I've had some rather lovely reviews this last go-round and I felt I absolutely had to respond to some of them.

Felan Lupus: Riza will remain a sort of off-screen character for a while longer… _but_ there will be a few special appearances this chapter of other beloved characters. As far as Mrs. Liu, she's not going to be a major character (like Riza and Maes), mainly the neighbor who is mentioned in passing.

Doodling Shadows: Like many geniuses, she doesn't really think herself that smart. In fact, many geniuses can't understand _why_ others can't figure 'simple things' out (my father is an example of this). Dawn assumes it's because she's got a head start (which is true) and not necessarily that she's gotten an intellectual boost from Mr. Flame. As a result, you can see why she does things due to first person POV, but to everyone else she comes off as a precocious genius. As far as 'Self Insert', while I have modeled Dawn off of some of my more tenacious habits (like 'family first' and my tendency to sarcasm), she's not really 'me'. But she's definitely an insert, I can agree to that. I am hoping to believe that the biggest reason you like her is because I am trying to make her _human_ … alongside the other characters.

MonMinou: How Dawn came to be is not explained beyond 'teenage foolishness' (ahem, _Roy_ and _Abby_ ). I am deliberately choosing to keep Dawn's previous life a general mystery (minus a hint here and there) mainly because Dawn knows she died, but she's blocked the memory due to trauma.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 9: In Which I Get a Book

.

I could hear them. Mutters floating out of the east. Mutters of discontent. Mutters of unrest.

Mutters of an uprising.

"Dad?" He looked at me, curious. I don't know what my face portrayed but I knew he was concerned with what he saw.

"Yes, Xiao-Hua?"

"Ishval," I said simply and saw his face shift. He looked down at the glove he'd developed and had been practicing with. This was the third iteration of the article, in fact. His gaze was concerned. "Are you going to go?"

"Maybe," he admitted. "If I can become a State Alchemist before that, though, I won't have to go out there." I didn't know that for certain and I knew it showed.

"But you'll still be a soldier, right?" I asked. He looked to me, curious. "You'd still… You still might be sent out." He hooked me into his arms and hugged me close.

"If that happens, I'll do everything I can to come back to you, Xiao-Hua."

"But what about me?"

"Well, I don't want to uproot you out of school again," he murmured. "Maybe I can talk to your grandmother. She might be able to stay here for a while if I was to be shipped out." Part of me wished that I would make him a deterrent to being sent out to war but this wasn't that kind of society. I would be sent to live with the nearest family or approved guardian. I knew this because that was how it had been explained to me some time ago _by_ my father. He was under no illusions I was unaware of how dangerous his job was. He was also under no illusions that he wouldn't be called on to serve his country and be made to leave me in the hands of others.

"Dad?" He looked to me, snapping out of his thoughts. "Become a State Alchemist quick." He blinked at me. "Be… Make yourself untouchable? Fast?" Dad's gaze was solemn and he hooked me close to him. I went willingly as he hugged me.

"I will. For you," he promised. "Now, let's get to work."

.

 _Dear Grandma and Grandpa,_

 _I'm done with this school year and tested out in the top ten of my class. I'm a whole year younger than everyone else and did better! Dad was very proud of me and took me for ice cream. I got vanilla and strawberry and it was really, really good._

 _Laura, my friend, showed me her pet dog. He's old and has a gray muzzle and is really sweet. His name is Jack but her mom called him 'hey, you!' a lot. He likes to sleep in the front hall of their house and bark at everyone who comes in. Laura has a sister, too. Her name is Hailey and she's alright. She's actually only a little younger than me and was kind of upset that I was in her sister's class. Laura then told her that it was better I was in her class instead because I was way smarter than anyone else she'd ever met._

 _That made me confused because I don't feel that smart. Dad's way smarter than I am and both of you are, too. I'm just a kid and I have lots and lots to learn. I'm not really that smart. But people say I'm not normal and they say I'm very intelligent and they say it has something to do with my Xingese heritage or that I 'got it honest' from Dad. I don't see how being only a quarter Xingese makes me that much smarter. That's what Dad says I am. I'm only one-quarter Xingese because he is one-half Xingese. His mom was pure Xingese. If being Xingese makes you smart, then maybe Xing has already figured out a flying machine and just haven't told anyone else. Dad says that they haven't. I think it would be amazing to fly in a machine._

 _I am really happy you sent the recipes, Grandma. Dad and I are experimenting with them and we made really good soup the other night! We didn't burn anything! I learned that Dad's not that good at cooking. It's like his new alchemy has messed up his ability to not burn things if they involve fire in some way. Dad doesn't think it's funny but I laugh at him when he manages to burn simple things. He's given up on cooking but isn't opposed to standing back and letting me cook. He watches over me, so don't worry! He helps me with cutting and carrying heavy things, but he mostly lets me do whatever I want so long as he's there to watch after me!_

 _I miss you both. It's getting better, just like you said, but I wish you were here. I don't like we don't have enough money to call you as much as I want. I wish we still lived close together. But we're working it out. I like my school and I like being Dad's big girl. It makes me feel important._

 _I love you both, but I have to clean my room. Dad says to hurry up and finish my letter. He also said I'll get to come visit you during Summer Solstice! He only has half-days off, but he wants me to come see you!_

 _Love,_

 _Dawn_

.

Summer Solstice actually came 'earlier' for me because of one simple fact: I was out of school and Dad was capable of affording a ticket with a little bit of saved money. I was still just six but it wasn't that unusual to send a child alone on a train in the care of the conductor. It would also give him a chance to practice without having to worry about me. He _did_ explain this to me, of course. He also went to call my grandparents to let them know that, yes, I was coming over to stay for a while.

So, very soon I was on a train with a note pinned to the front of my dress like I was some package and a case on the rack overhead. I was occupied by an alchemy book and sufficiently out of the way. Dad made me promise to not flaunt my alchemy book in front of Grandma and Grandpa, but I could read up until I got to Central Station.

"You're a bit young for that sort of book, don't you think?" I looked up at the sound of a man's voice as he paused along the center aisle. His voice was a pleasant sort of baritone with some vague accent I couldn't quite place. His face was somewhat absentminded and sad, like a long line of sorrows had visited him over the years and had left their mark. Even his shoulders were slumped as if shouldering and barely keeping up some great weight. What startled me, though, was his coloring. He was lightly tanned with a slight golden undertone to his skin. His eyes, framed by glasses, and his hair, pulled back in a low ponytail, and even his painfully manicured beard were all golden colored. I blinked and then shrugged, aware that the conductor had only recently left and that he'd come looking for me if I was gone from my seat for any length of time.

"Daddy doesn't think so," I told him. He gave a vague little smile, more of a memory than an actual expression, before nodding.

"Your father must be proud of you, then," he noted. I nodded.

"He is. He says not to practice without him, though. Who are you, Mister?" He eyed me for a long moment behind those spectacles before responding.

"Just a traveling alchemist myself." My eyes widened at the admission even though he completely avoided my question about his name. He set down his case on the bench next to me and I saw some clothes and some books when he opened it. He picked one book out and handed it to me. "Here."

"What's that?" I asked, suspicious and unmoving.

"It's another alchemy book. Some of my own minor notes. Perhaps they'll help you some." I took it curiously, setting aside my own book, and found a whole plethora of handwritten notes. The writing was precise and neat though slightly slanted to the left, evidence of someone who wrote with his left hand. There were careful diagrams and it was really fascinating because some of it looked pretty detailed and different from the basic stuff I'd been allowed to peruse. One such series of notes showed how to make grass into bread. I blinked and looked up as the case he had clicked shut.

"Mister Alchemist? I can't take this." I closed it and moved to hand it back only to find his hand stalling my motion, pushing the book back to me. His little lost-in-memory smile remained as though he wasn't really seeing me.

"Just keep it and take care of it. Learn from it. My sons…" Here, he broke off as emotion showed in his voice. It had longing and sadness and love but… something of regret, too. "They would be about your age now, I think."

"What happened to them?" I asked, befuddled as I kept the book held towards him.

"They're at home… Unfortunately, I've been on a… business trip for some time now." I frowned worriedly.

"You miss them?"

"Yes. I do."

"But are you going to go home soon?" His sadness only increased.

"No, not yet. I've got a lot of work to do first." I looked at the leather-bound book full of his work and then back to him. "Anyway, I think perhaps they'd be like you… fascinated with alchemy."

"Then why don't you keep it and give it to them?" I asked.

"Because I have many more books at home already. No doubt they've begun to rummage through the stacks already. This isn't all that much, merely my own musings on alchemy. Use it for your own knowledge and treat it well. Perhaps even come up with your own arrays and equations. Further your knowledge for me, please?" I finally lowered my hand, barely noticing as the conductor appeared and frowned at the man talking to me.

"I can do that, Mister Alchemist," I told him. Something about this exchange made me think that he wasn't really doing this for me but for his sons. It seemed like he didn't expect to ever go home. That was sad to me. "But… you should hurry home," I said in response to my thoughts. "I miss my Daddy when he's far away. Your sons probably miss you, too." He patted me on the head and lifted his case as the conductor drew closer.

"You're a good girl. What's your name, anyway?"

"Dawn."

"Pleasure to meet you, Dawn. You can call me Van." I puzzled over the oddity of the name even as the conductor spoke up.

"Excuse me, sir, but please leave this child alone."

"I'm going on," assured the man, Mister Van. I watched him go past the conductor and through the door the conductor had come through, obviously going to the next car. I looked up at the conductor.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" the man asked worriedly.

"No, sir. He didn't. He gave me a book?" He looked at the new book in my hands and frowned before sighing and shaking his head.

"Very well. May I look at the book? To make sure it's not something inappropriate for you, that is." I handed it over, well aware that acquiescing was the fastest way to be left alone and he skimmed it, eyebrows hiking up his forehead. "That… I don't even know what this is."

"It's alchemy. Mister Van said he was an alchemist."

"Alright… Well, it's not something inappropriate, so here." He handed the book back to me. "And don't go off with anyone, alright?"

"No, Mister Conductor. I won't." He nodded and went on, continuing his patrol of the train. My attention went right back to my new book and I carefully thumbed through the pages. Most of what was in here was advanced compared to what I was doing but they also had the feeling of idle contemplations and thoughts. More like busywork than real research. Whoever Mister Van was, he was a _genius_.

I decided I loved it and would take care of it. Mister Van gave it to me, so I ought to keep it safe.

The rest of the trip passed _far_ quicker with my new treasure to read.

.

Grandpa hugs were the best… but Grandma hugs were sorely missed. I felt like it had been _years_ feeling her hugging me tight but it hadn't really been _that_ long and Grandma was too busy loving on me to really give me a moment's breathing room just yet. "You've gotten taller, too!" she enthused as she finally loosened her grip so I could grin up at her.

"Yes, I did!" I chirped happily. Now that I was in her care, the conductor had gone on to do what he needed to do. I had tucked away my books before I'd disembarked so they were out of sight for now. I wasn't going to fool myself into thinking that I could hide my alchemy books forever but at least I could for now. "How have you been, Grandma?" I asked, remembering my manners.

"Well enough, Dawnie," she smiled. "And you?"

"Good!"

"And how's your dad been?" I briefly considered ratting my dad's bad behaviors out but then decided to avoid telling her he'd burnt a bunch of things since starting his fire alchemy.

"He wishes he was here with me," I admitted. "If he wouldn't have gotten in trouble, I think he'd have snuck off with me." She smiled at my words, moving to guide me through the platform towards the entrance.

"Is that so? Well, I hope you don't mind being here for a while without him. Johnny and Ellie are both excited to see you again… and Richie has missed you, too." I perked up at that, remembering the Grants. Not that I really forgot them, but I had been gone for some months now.

"I've missed them, too!" As we left the train station, I looked out over the streets of Central I could immediately see. It was great to be in Central again even if I wasn't going to stay long.

.

"Grandpa!" The squeal resounded through the house as I collided with my grandfather and he wrapped his arms around me.

"Dawn!" he greeted with a wide smile and a laugh. "How's my baby girl doing?"

"Great! I've missed you!"

"I bet! We've missed having you around here, too."

"Can I get a hug, too?" That voice had me turning to the person just behind Grandpa even as I registered his voice.

"Uncle Maes!" I chirped, hugging my pseudo-uncle. He laughed, ruffling my hair.

"Hey, Rosie!" he greeted. "Your grandparents told me you were coming today so I had to come see my favorite Mustang!" I pulled back from him a little to give him an incredulous look.

"You like me more than Daddy?" I asked, confused.

"Of course. You're cuter," he smirked before producing something out of his pocket. I blinked at it, discerning it to be a deck of cards. "And, if your Grandma lets me, I'll teach you card games while you're here so you can mess with your dad."

"Maes Hughes!" chided Grandma as she'd come into the front hall to greet her husband and their guest.

"What?" he asked innocently as he looked to her. "You have to admit, it would be hilarious if Roy got beat by a little girl at poker." Grandma scowled as Grandpa smirked a little.

"It has merit, dear. And it's not like it's that bad."

"Poker, though. Really?" she asked with no small amount of venom. "Dawn's just a little girl and she does _not_ need to learn how to _gamble_."

"If it's just for peanuts," Uncle Maes hedged hopefully, "it wouldn't be that bad, would it?"

To my surprise, Grandma threw up her hands in exasperation. "Whatever." She turned on heel and walked away. "It's not like her father's been sneaking alchemy lessons!" The sarcasm was heavy in her tone and I winced as the men looked at me in curiosity.

"Your dad's been teaching you alchemy?" Grandpa asked.

"Yes, sir," I mumbled, looking down. "It's fun."

"Nerd," pouted Uncle Maes. He got a look from Grandpa and fell silent.

"Have you been careful?" demanded Grandpa, satisfied with the younger man's silence.

"Yes. I don't practice if Daddy's not there," I told him as I looked up. "He made me promise."

"Well, good, then."

"What I want to know is where this came from. I don't recognize it." Grandma had returned with the handwritten journal, open and flaunting the detailed diagrams of one of the many idle thoughts Mister Van had written down.

"A man gave it to me on the train," I told her. "Mister Van said he wrote it and for me to hold onto it for him. He wouldn't let me give it back to him." I saw the concern on their faces.

"What if he stole it, Dawn?" Grandpa asked worriedly.

"I don't think so," I replied. "He wasn't… nervous?" I moved to take the book from Grandma, closing it carefully. "He was sad."

"Why?" asked Grandma as she bent down a little to get more on my level. "Why was he sad, Dawnie?"

"He was sad that he was far from his sons. Said they were about my age," I told her. "He said he'd left behind books there, that they might have even started reading them by now, but he said he wasn't going home anytime soon when I tried to give it back so he could give it to his sons. He saw me reading the book Dad let me borrow."

"Do you understand what's in the book?" Grandpa pressed gently. I nodded.

"Some of it," I replied.

"Are you going to practice?"

"No. Daddy said not to practice away from him."

"Alright. Well, we'll tell your father about the book, alright? And you do as you promised."

"Yes, Grandma."

And that, for the most part, was that. Dinner was eaten, Uncle Maes mooched off of my grandparents' good graces, and then we sat down to learn poker.

I watched with interest as Uncle Maes began showing me different hands while Grandma cleaned up and Grandpa watched the 'corruption' with equanimity. I kicked my feet as Uncle Maes showed me how to make up hands from two of a kind to a royal flush. He then encouraged an open-faced game in which he taught me how to select and discard cards as well as try to guess which cards were best to be discarded. Grandpa offered suggestions as well, ignoring how his wife sniffed in discontent.

And then we played a more official game.

Uncle Maes dealt the cards and Grandpa rustled up some counters in the form of dry-roasted peanuts. He gave ten to each person at the table, setting aside another ten for Grandma even though I knew she wouldn't likely join the game, and motioned for Uncle Maes to continue.

Betting wasn't really one of the things that happened, naturally. Grandma would have shut that down really fast if we _had_ tried. The counters, one anted up each round, would be merely taken by the person who won the round or so Grandpa dictated. Whoever lost all their counters first would be out of the game. Whoever had the most at the point Grandma cut us off would be the winner.

I watched with interest as the first round was dealt out and took my five cards. Examining them, I considered my options and realized something important. I wasn't really that great at poker. Or, I hadn't been in my last life. Emotionality tends to impact the ability to bluff. I already knew all the hands and the whole betting thing but the refresher had been nice. Now I had to play and I had the uncertain hand of a three of clubs, a five of hearts, a jack of hearts, a queen of spades, and an ace of spades.

Quick thoughts had me thinking that _maybe_ I could get a short straight if I tossed the queen and jack. But that would be a low straight and the queen and jack were already right next to each other. I had the ace, too, which should be good to put next to a king. I worried over this, natural competitiveness making me want to win.

"Not a good hand, huh?" I looked up to Grandpa and he smiled a bit indulgently. "Well, if you have cards you want to change out, take them and put them face down on the table before getting new ones to replace them."

"I don't know what cards to change," I told him.

"Do you want to play open-faced?" Uncle Maes asked. I considered my chances before nodding. "Okay, then. Lay them out." He reviewed my cards as he laid his down, too. Grandpa also mimicked us and I saw their hands. Grandpa's was the best so far, having three of a kind, and Uncle Maes was in the same position as myself with a variety of cards that _could_ be something if he swapped cards out.

With some suggestions and efforts, I soon was playing with some surety. Grandma sat and watched as we played, choosing to assist me in order to let the boys play closed-faced and more like real poker. While she didn't like that I was being corrupted so early, she did accept that if I understood how to play I wouldn't be taken for a ride later. Or so I guessed.

Soon, though, Grandpa was out of the running because his peanuts had gone between me and Uncle Maes with Uncle Maes getting the lion's share. I had seven peanuts left when Grandma decided it was time that we were to quit and go to bed. Uncle Maes pouted.

"Aw, but we were having fun!"

"You're beating a six-year-old," chided Grandma.

"She beat her grandpa," he smirked back. Grandpa chuckled a bit as I gave him an apologetic look. It was true. I had beaten him in that last round and taken his last peanut. The only reason I had seven was because I had been down to four and was on the verge of losing. I wouldn't have minded that (as it would have gotten me out of playing), but I think Grandpa threw his last hand and I'd not been able to verify the fact because Uncle Maes told me it was bad manners to look at another person's cards if they didn't want you to.

I wanted to call bullshit, but… I'm six. I was forbidden from saying the 'S'-word. I was also supposed to be a lady, so…

After a bath, in which my grandmother called my father to let him know I was settling down for the night and that everything was okay, I was urged into bed. It wasn't my bed anymore, which was a bit disconcerting. The room that had been semi-enshrined for my deceased mother had also belonged to me once I'd gotten old enough to sleep in a proper bed. When we'd moved, we'd had much of my mother's old furniture shipped with us to our new apartment because Grandma and Grandpa had insisted. The room that had once been mine had been modified into a new room, a craft room or something.

It showcased that my grandparents were at least moving past my mother's death and that they were comfortable with the fact that I wasn't a permanent fixture in their home anymore. It also meant that I was to sleep in the guest room from now on.

The sheets didn't smell of Dad anymore, but that was fine. I was with family.

.

The days with my grandparents were filled with fun. Grandma took me to visit the Grants and I played with them eagerly. Upon discovering I'd had started learning alchemy, they wanted a demonstration. I made my grandmother proud when I told them 'no' because I'd promised to not practice without proper supervision.

I didn't see Mister Van again, but that wasn't much of a surprise. Central was a big city. Uncle Maes _did_ come by often and, on his day off, appropriated me upon allowance of my grandma.

"You're a bad influence," I told him, earning a laugh from the adult.

"I'm not that bad, Rosie," he chided though his humor didn't help his position too much. We were walking along the road, more or less just wandering around. There had been a trip to the library, a trip to the park, and a trip to our favorite soda fountain.

"Yes, you are," I insisted seriously. He shook his head, smiling wryly. "What are you doing anyway? Practicing how to go on a date with a pretty girl?" That had him nearly walking right into a sign and he turned to me really fast, his face glowing with embarrassment.

"No, I'm not!" he snapped. "And where'd you learn something like that anyway?" Well, my snark _had_ gotten away from me on that one but I just grinned. "It was your father, wasn't it?" he asked in resigned horror. "Wasn't it?" I unhelpfully shrugged, still showing that toothy grin. He sighed, cheeks still red. "Rosie, you're not supposed to do that." I was losing interest in his shock and I was looking at the display of flowers for sale. "And… you're not even listening."

"I was listening," I defended.

"Uh, huh," he grunted, obviously not believing me. I sighed, rolling my eyes heavenward. "Don't do that," he complained. "You remind me way too much of your dad when you do that."

"I know…" He moved to speak again only for the words to die in his throat in a peculiar way that had me blinking at him in confusion. He was turning red again and distinctly _not_ looking at me. I frowned, realizing the gaze was somewhere above my head. "Uncle Maes?" I asked, concerned.

"Ah…" I turned to look around, trying to figure out what had him so bowled over. I looked back to him, uncertain. "Um…" He looked down at me with a smile, visibly breaking his gaze from whatever had held his attention. "Sorry."

"What did you see?" He gave me a puzzled look before glancing at whatever had taken his attention before.

"A pretty girl," he admitted. I looked again only to see what I guessed he saw and realized it was a pretty girl. Or, really, a pretty woman with blonde hair. I looked at him once again. "Come on. I need to take you home."

"You're not going to go talk to her?" I asked, befuddled. He blushed again, the reaction adorable, and gave me a wide-eyed look.

"Not right now," he muttered as he took my hand to lead me away.

"Why not? If you like her, you should talk to her."

"Rosie, it's not that easy."

"Why do you have to complicate it?" I complained. "What's the worst that can happen? You talk to her and she says 'go away'?"

"Well, that isn't the worst _possible_ thing but it would definitely be the worst _probable_ thing," he groused.

"Uncle _Maes_ ," I whined as we turned the corner. His longer strides were forcing me to trot to keep up. "You don't know for certain!"

"Rosie," he returned, looking at me with that look that said 'I'm an adult and I know what I'm talking about'. I hated that look. "You have to look at it _this_ way… She's beautiful, so she's probably already dating someone. I'd rather not risk the embarrassment." I hauled hard on his hand and he lost his grip on me as I slipped away. He spun even as I began to backtrack. "Dawn!"

As a former adult, I understood that uncertainty. I understood rejection happened and, sometimes, it made you feel like a complete fool. I knew better. I loved my father but he was an idiot. I loved my uncle but he was clearly just as much an idiot. Perhaps he would have eventually martialed the courage. Perhaps not. All I knew was that sometimes tomorrow didn't happen and that made me a little more courageous.

I found myself in front of the lady again and saw that she was a very beautiful woman that exuded this sense of _class_. I knew why Uncle Maes had blushed terribly. If I'd been my former self, _I'd_ have looked twice with admiration.

"Hello," she greeted as I puffed slightly. I was on limited time, though. "Are you okay?"

"Hello, I'm Dawn Mustang and Uncle Maes thinks you're pretty!" The words were out of my mouth very quickly and in a tumble of sounds even as Uncle Maes managed to catch up. She was already blushing as she looked up at him over my head as his hand came down on my shoulder.

"Dawn, _no_ ," he said, voice hard. "Leave the lady alone!" He looked to her. "I'm so sorry. She's normally better behaved than this."

"Do you wanna go on a date with him?"

"Dawn!" A hand clamped down over my mouth, I caught a glimpse of his flaming-red face, and I could see that the woman was blushing now, too. I tried to lick his hand but it didn't work at _all_. "Stop that! We're going back to your grandparents!"

"Don't be mad," the woman said, making Uncle Maes pause. I looked at her and she looked very flattered. "I think it's very sweet." She was even smiling a little with her blush.

"Ah…" The completely inarticulate sound coming from my uncle's mouth would have been funny if it was any other time. I tugged on his hand, trying to get free from his grip.

The woman looked to me, crouching slightly with some care as she wore a pencil skirt. "I'm Gracia Harlow," she introduced herself, holding out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

I abandoned the hand covering my face to shake the hand offered and offered a much muffled, "Mmph mm mph muu!" She laughed and Uncle Maes removed his hand. "That's Uncle Maes!" I added cheerily, pointing up at him.

"Is that so?" she asked with a smile, glancing up over my head. "So, he thinks I'm pretty?" Uncle Maes gave a strangled smile as I nodded decisively.

"Yes! He blushed really red when he saw you."

"Dawn!" he hissed. I rolled my eyes and turned to him.

"Hush. You don't know how to talk around her, so I've got to get you a date!" Both adults were red by now. Miss Harlow straightened even as I returned my attention back to her. "Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Harlow?"

"No, I don't," she admitted, looking more at Uncle Maes than me. I knew that, while she responded to _me_ , she was directing her answers more at _him_. "Does your uncle have anyone significant in his life?"

"Just family," I replied with a shrug. "And his job."

"Oh? What does he do?"

"I'm in the military," he admitted for himself, apparently finding his words as he rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Mostly low end stuff for now."

"Ah," she noted with a smile.

"And yourself?"

"Well, I work here at this shop, actually," she admitted, glancing at the flower stands we'd been in front of. "How is Dawn here related to you?"

"She's not," he murmured. "Not by blood, anyway. Her father's a good friend of mine and she's here in Central visiting her grandparents. I kind of decided she was going to be my niece."

"How sweet!" she enthused, looking at me with a new interest. "Well, you seem to be very nice, Mr. Maes…?" She left it hanging.

He realized what she was asking for a moment later. "Hughes," he blurted. "Maes Hughes."

"Mr. Hughes," she smiled.

"Well, I… ah…" His words were faltering again. "I need to get this one back to her family…" I saw the flicker of faint disappointment in her face before it curiously steeled slightly. "Nice meeting you?"

"Nice meeting you, too," she nodded. "I hope seven o'clock tomorrow evening isn't too inconvenient." He gave her a startled look.

"Huh?"

"For that date," she told him. His eyes widened a bit more.

"Huh?"

"She's asking you out on a _date_ , Uncle Maes!" I hissed at him, even though I knew she'd hear me. He gave me a look. "Say 'yes'!" I commanded.

"I…" He looked at her. "I… Yes, Miss Harlow. That'll be perfectly alright… and shouldn't interfere with my schedule, either." She gave him a sunny smile.

"Good. Take care Mr. Hughes… Miss Dawn." I beamed triumphantly as I was drawn away from the flower shop.

"Have a good afternoon, Miss Harlow!"

"Bye!"

The moment we were two blocks away, he turned to me, seized me up, and hugged me tightly. "Thank you," he muttered in my ear. "But I ought to spank you for doing that, too." I giggled, hugging him right back.

"You're welcome, Uncle Maes." A man like him deserved a family and I adored him a great deal. And I had never _seen_ him blush like that before. It was immensely satisfying. "I love you, too."

"Little brat," he complained. His hug didn't lessen for a long while, though. "Let's get you home," he finally said, setting me down. I looked up at him.

"Home's with Daddy," I reminded.

"Then let's get you to your grandparents," he replied before leading me back to the house I'd spent most of my life in so far.

.

I didn't hear how the date had gone. That had been because Uncle Maes had been way too busy with other things and hadn't been able to spare time. In fact, I spent more time being busy with everyone else _other_ than him in Central… or so it seemed.

Central also hosted their yearly Summer Solstice festival, more popularly known as the Festival of the Sun, and we all went. I suspected that Uncle Maes was busy with either work or the lady I'd talked into going on a date with him. Either that or he was sulking… which I hoped not.

I thought I saw a flash of the back of Mister Van but the crowd shifted and hid the person I guessed might be him before I could get a very good look. I was pretty small still, so I couldn't see as far as I wished at times. I didn't go calling out, either, because I wasn't even _sure_ it was him.

Still, there were a multitude of fun things to do. I threw balls at milk bottles, was carefully guided into how to shoot a target with a pellet gun by my grandfather, and watched some clowns doing silly antics. I didn't like clowns, though. My cheek was painted with a star, I got candy floss, and there was a yo-yo somewhere along the way.

In the end, I got completely worn out, I didn't really see too many people I knew, and I was told we were going to visit my Aunt Chris the next day. That made me glad though I knew my grandmother was uncomfortable with the fact I had a Madame for a 'great-aunt'.

Still, it was a wonderful day and I was exhausted when we finally returned to the house.

.

Aunt Chris hadn't changed in the previous few months and she eyed me carefully up and down before nodding. "You're looking healthy, girl," she told me gruffly.

"Daddy feeds me," I offered with a smile. "When he doesn't burn dinner, that is." She chuckled at my cheeky response before looking to Grandma.

"Well, she's definitely got that one's sass." Grandma's smile was somewhat bemused as she glanced at me. We weren't in the main area of the brothel, fortunately. We were in the private residence, which meant we were up on the second floor in the living area. It was far more comfortable for Grandma and only because she was relieved that I wasn't permitted in the public parts of the house.

"Yes, we discovered that particular wit a long while back," she agreed. "So, does your father burn the food often?" This wasn't a discussion we'd had yet and I shrugged.

"Not really. I don't let him."

"Oh? You're the cook?"

"Not when he's around. I think Daddy's afraid I'm gonna burn down the building," I answered sincerely as I kicked my feet.

"Stop that. It's not ladylike," scolded Grandma. I stopped kicking immediately.

"She's six," Aunt Chris commented. "Let her be a child." Grandma gave her an incredulous look.

"Please, Miss Mustang," she returned. "Dawn is extremely smart and very aware of the world around her. She needs these lessons _now_ rather than later."

"I'm aware. I had to raise her father and he was just as smart." I was sensing this was becoming an argument. "It's not like she'll suffer any from having a little freedom _now_."

"Can I be excused?" I asked quickly, attracting their attention.

"Why?" Grandma asked, baffled.

"I don't wanna watch you fight," I told her. "It's bad _to_ fight." I could see the protest beginning to form in both women. "Daddy says there's times to be a lady and times to not be a lady."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Grandma asked dangerously.

"What times were alright to not be a lady?" Aunt Chris asked in curiosity. I gave her a solemn look, well aware of Grandma's gaze.

"Depends on what's going on," I replied, tightening my fingers in my skirt. "If hard work's to be done, if someone is trying to hurt someone else… especially if it's you, and if you're with family that doesn't care how you behave so long as you know _when_ to behave."

Both women were looking at me with interest before Aunt Chris started chuckling in clear amusement. "He said that, did he?" she asked, still laughing and looking rather pleased by my words. I nodded with a 'yes, Aunt Chris' off my lips. "He's right," she went on, not caring if Grandma still looked shocked. "Acting proper in public is important when it matters. When your safety is at stake, I expect you to fight back as hard as you can. And, of course, being proper is all well and good until hands have to get dirty. Just remember to know your limits, too."

"Yes, Aunt Chris," I repeated.

"Your father is something else," murmured Grandma, somewhat mollified by the fact that my father _had_ put some kind of common sense rules down. I nodded, smiling.

"He's really smart."

"And school?" asked Aunt Chris. "How's that been?"

"Fun," I replied. "Boring, too."

"She was in the top percent of her class and she was also the youngest in the class," Grandma told Aunt Chris. I nodded proudly, preening a little.

"So I heard. Roy told me as much when he called to let me know that Dawn was coming to visit," agreed the Madame. Her expression slowly closed as she looked at me, though. "I know that Roy's got some lofty aspirations and wishes to become higher ranked…" Grandma looked puzzled even as I frowned slightly. "Being what I am might cause some reputation issues." She looked to Grandma as it slowly registered on me what she meant. "And he needs all the help he can get."

"What are you saying?" Grandma asked, baffled. "Are you saying you're going to cut him out of your life? Dawn, too?"

"Not entirely. I'm willing to distance myself, though," Aunt Chris admitted. "If only to ensure his future and, therefore, this one's future. Besides, I was never really a great parental figure to begin with. Ever since my brother and his wife died, taking Roy in was more of an obligation than any great desire."

"But you still took him in," Grandma pointed out.

"I never _wanted_ kids and I wanted a semi-damaged orphaned boy even _less_." This shocked me profoundly. "Oh, I still loved my nephew, but I never set out to raise him… or have him come up with a baby about ten years later." She gave me a wry smile. "Good news was that he didn't ever expect me to take care of her, though. He took good care of his daughter."

"That he did… But I don't think it's a good idea you essentially leaving him and Dawn."

"He's got you and your husband, Sarah," she told her seriously. "He's got Dawn. He's already documented as an orphan as both Arthur and Huian are gone. I don't think they even really bothered to note where he went so long as he didn't cause trouble. Frankly, having a Madame as an aunt isn't going to do him any favors and I can keep an eye on him through rumor and you if necessary."

"You're leaving us, Aunt Chris?" Even though I'd not lived with her for some months and I didn't get to talk to her often, I couldn't imagine losing a part of my odd little family.

"Not leaving, exactly," she assured me. "We just won't see each other as often."

"We already don't," I noted with growing concern. "We live in different cities."

"Look, Dawn," she said with a sigh. "I know you're smart enough to understand this. Your father is trying to gain rank in the military and some of the people that do promotions look at backgrounds more than capability. If he wants to advance…" I swallowed thickly. Yes, I understood all too well.

-/-/-/-

Thanks for reading. **Please review.**


	10. In Which He Becomes the Flame

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, but… I wound up on the dirty side of Hurricane Harvey. Since last Thursday, when I started filling up water bladders while my parents practically blazed south from Missouri from a vacation, I feel like it's been a month since all of this started. I was lucky in the fact that I was not among those you got to see on television in the floods. I was lucky in the fact that I didn't have to worry about my life and, miracle of miracles, my home didn't get flooded. Unfortunately, I know those who did have their homes destroyed. One of them is an aunt of mine and her house was lost as she had a birthday, which is insult added to injury.

Now, if you have not donated to the relief and wish TO donate, choose an organization like Salvation Army or some other non-profit organization. **Do not donate to the Red Cross.** During the Texas City disaster in which a tanker of fertilizer blew up, my grandfather and his buddies went to help with the relief efforts. In order to help, they had to buy gloves and coffee from Red Cross. In fact, Red Cross is well known to turn away donations if they have 'too much' of anything in particular instead of redistributing it to another organization that needs supplies to help others. So, please don't donate to them.

 _ **God blessed Texans with big hearts, y'all, and we used them to show the world we ain't a bunch of sonovabitches that do nothin' but hate. We're them arrogant, self-aggrandizing Texans with boots an' cowboy hats an' egos the size of our state.**_

 _ **And so many people have shown their hearts are just as big as ours.**_

 _ **Thank you very, very much.**_

That being said, I hope you enjoy this! I appreciate all the review (89), all the follows (235), all the favorites (176), and the community that's marked me.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 10: In Which He Becomes the Flame

.

Summer Solstice eventually ended and I was sent back home to my father via the train. I was troubled, though. My Aunt Chris had decided to distance herself from us… and she was sending a letter with me to my father explaining what she was trying to do for him. It was packed into my case so it wouldn't be forgotten, sealed in an envelope and with his name written on the front.

Uncle Maes also finally came around only to kiss and hug me before profusely thanking me for setting him up with a date with someone he declared was the prettiest woman in all of Central. I guessed from his enthusiasm that the date had gone well and that he probably had gone out on another date with her or, perhaps, had arranged for another in the near future. Personally, I didn't care either way as I was preoccupied with the thoughts about Aunt Chris. He sensed my unease but didn't comment on it other than to tell me he loved me, though.

Finally, though, I went home in the care of another conductor and was picked up at the station by my father. He smiled at me as I came forward and wrapped my arms around his waist. "Missed me that much?" he asked.

"Lots and lots," I mumbled. Dad smoothed a hand over my hair.

"Come on, Xiao-Hua. Let's go home."

"Okay, Daddy."

When we arrived, it was nearly time to fix dinner and I knew I was hungry. "Tell me about your trip," he encouraged. I looked at him, pausing in my patient cutting of vegetables we'd picked up on the way home.

"It was good at first, but…" He gave me a puzzled look. "Grandma told you about the book I got and stuff, right?" I knew that he had heard and he nodded.

"Of course," he replied. "I do want to look over it myself."

"I know… but…" I left my vegetables and got out the letter that Aunt Chris had written, holding it out to him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Aunt Chris wrote it." His eyebrows went up at the admission and took the letter. He opened it and read it. I watched silently as his expression flickered with each new sentence. I didn't even know what she'd written, but by the end of it he looked very serious.

"Is this why you were so upset?" he asked. I nodded only to find myself caught up in his arms and being held close. "Don't be upset, Xiao-Hua," he murmured, kneeling on the floor to hold me close. "She does have some pretty good reasons. I will see about sending her a message, though. Just to make sure she knows we do care and still wish to have her in our lives, okay?"

"Okay."

"Come and let's get done with dinner. I want to see that book soon and I'd rather do that after we're done eating."

.

The book that Mister Van had given me had seriously impressed my father. He marveled over the contents in the handwritten volume, sometimes exclaiming over some point that had been made. "And he just _gave_ it to you?" he asked in awe.

"Yes, sir," I replied dutifully. "I tried to give it back." I'd already told him that, though. I'd told him everything of what had happened on the train ride to Central as far as I could reiterate completely and Dad had learned about how the man looked as far as I'd observed, that he had sons, his name was 'Van', and that he was an alchemist. The one problem was that I hadn't learned if 'Van' was a first name or surname and he lamented over that as he wished to see if he could track this man down in order to talk to him some more.

"Well, that's fine," he assured me, flipping through the pages as he once again vainly looked for a name that I knew wouldn't be there. My mysterious benefactor hadn't seen a need to, apparently, and I'd already looked. "This is a little treasure trove of information."

"Could I learn from it?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yes. Most of this is pretty simple. But not until I say so, okay? I don't want you practicing out of this unless I give you permission."

"Yes, Daddy," I told him dutifully. He let me have it, assured that I wouldn't be irresponsible.

"That's my girl," he smiled, hooking me close to him. "Now, it's late. Go ahead and start getting ready for bed. We'll unpack your things in a bit, alright?"

"Okay!"

.

I settled back into routine during the days again while Dad was at work. Summer was burning by pretty quickly and I knew soon it would be Dad's birthday soon. I wanted to get him something, of course, and wondered if it would be better to use alchemy. Unfortunately for me, I'd promised to _not_ use alchemy without him so I couldn't even make a surprise to give him.

That didn't, however, mean that I couldn't get the necessary materials and ask to transmute them for him when it came time to. That way, it would remain a surprise.

Unfortunately, things were turned on their ears in the later part of that summer and I heard through Dad that Uncle Maes would soon be sent to Ishval. The unrest had broken into civil war and I clung to my father, terrified that I'd lose him to the war, too.

"It'll be okay, Xiao-Hua. I've got control of my fire alchemy now. I've even begun the application to become a State Alchemist. They don't send State Alchemists out to war zones," he soothed me late one night as I curled in his bed with him.

"You did?" I whispered fearfully.

"Yes, I did. I promise things will be alright. I'll become a State Alchemist soon."

"But… what if they make you go to Ishval? Even if you become a State Alchemist?"

"If that happens, I'll figure something out." I shivered and he tucked me closer, petting at my hair. "I love you, Dawn. Now, _sleep_. Tomorrow will be fine."

"Okay. Love you, too, Daddy."

Even if I didn't understand everything, I understood I had to do as told and I worked to go to sleep though fears haunted my mind.

.

The first day of school was also when my father went to test to become a State Alchemist. I was anxious during my first day despite the fact I was dressed neatly with my hair braided and a bow at the end of the plaited hair. I had my school things and a sturdy bag to put those things in.

I think my father insisted on the extra steps so that he could have something to soothe his nerves.

"Hi!" I jumped and then spun to look at Laura who was smiling prettily at me. She, too, was all done up and her hair was in pigtails rather than a braid.

"Hi, Laura," I greeted. "How was your summer?"

"Great! I'm glad we're in the same class again!" Indeed, we were. I'd been filed into the same grouping she had been and we'd all been told this group would belong to one class. She even hugged me but stepped back when she realized I wasn't responding to the gesture. "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"Daddy's testing," I admitted.

"For what?" she asked, puzzled.

"He's trying to become a State Alchemist today," I told her. "I wish I could be there to see how he does." I fidgeted and she considered this before nodding. It was clear she didn't completely understand, but she _did_ nod, aware that it was upsetting me.

"Well, he's really smart, right? He's your dad, right?" I nodded soberly. "He'll make it." That simplistic conviction would have heartened any other child… but I wasn't _any other child_. I was a compulsive worrier and my father was taking a test that would define the rest of his life. I figured he _would_ make it eventually, but I didn't know if that would be _today_.

If he failed today, I didn't know if I could even predict how the future might go. Dad was supposed to come into contact with the two boys. Those two boys were important because they were central to an entire _series_ of books, comic or otherwise. If he didn't make it, I don't know what that would mean for other things.

The day was extraordinarily long and I was glad that I wasn't called on too much for interaction. Laura thankfully hung close and I met a few more classmates that were somewhat interesting. It wasn't really enough to distract me.

But when the end of the day came, I found my Dad there waiting for me among many women who had come to get their children. I went to him, silently looking for the dejection or elation that would tell me if he made it or not, but I didn't see either. "Did you make it?" I asked hoarsely. He smiled at me, a slight tightness in his gaze.

"I don't know yet," he admitted, hooking me closer. "I'll find out in a week." I swallowed nervously, looking down. "Hey, don't do that. Xiao-Hua, how was your first day?"

"Alright," I told him. "I was worried about you."

"Mr. Mustang!" Laura came up with her little sister and mother in tow. "Did you make it?" Dad arched a brow as I blushed a little.

"I don't know yet," he told her. "I'm guessing Dawn told you?" She nodded.

"Yes, sir! She was really worried." He nodded with a smile.

"So she told me. I'll find out in a week, Miss Kidd." He nodded to her mother and then nudged at me. "Come on, Xiao-Hua. We've got to go home."

"Yes, Daddy. Bye, Laura! Bye, Hailey!"

"Bye!" the two girls chorused after me. I took Dad's hand gratefully and we went home. "I hope you make it. I don't want you to go to Ishval," I told him once we were a block or so away from the Kidd family.

"I go where I'm sent, Xiao-Hua," he told me, looking down. "And if I'm sent to Ishval, I have to go."

"The military sucks," I complained.

"Language," he chided. "And it doesn't 'suck'."

"But you're supposed to be a _scientist_ , not a _soldier_." His fingers tightened on mine.

"I will be whatever I need to be for you to be taken care of and be better off than I was at your age."

At my age, my father was an orphan. At my age, he'd been taken in by a woman who didn't really want him but hadn't wanted to send him to a home. At my age, alchemy had been but a dream barely imagined as he lived in a little room above a bordello.

"I love you, Dad," I told him.

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

.

One week later, I was finished with my first week of school. One week later, I had become so antsy that I might as well have had a sugar high. I was doing my work, of course, but I got called down three separate times over the day for being somewhat disruptive.

When school was out, I hurriedly barreled out of the school in high hopes that I'd see my father there. He didn't pick me up all the time, even over the course of this week, but I certainly hoped he'd pick me up today.

It was a bit of a shock when he wasn't there and waiting for me and bitterness flooded my mouth as I looked around. Today, he should have found out if he was a State Alchemist. Today, I hoped he'd become the Flame Alchemist. My fingers tightened on the strap of my satchel as other students poured out to their respective parents. Some went ahead and started walking home, knowing that their parents weren't there.

I would be one of these latter kids today and I went ahead and started walking.

It was a couple blocks later when fast footsteps were heard and I heard a shout. I turned only to squawk as I was snatched up bodily by my father. My feet even left the ground as he gathered me up and close as he kissed me all over my face. "Daddy!" I squealed, surprised by the display.

"I made it, Xiao-Hua!" he told me, pulling back with a bright, sunny grin. "I made it!" My eyes widened as my breath caught.

"You made it?" I questioned, disbelieving.

"I did! I did!" he laughed and I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him right back. "Oh, I love you, Xiao-Hua! My biggest supporter in my entire life!" I laughed, his jubilation intoxicating. He kissed me again. "We need to celebrate!" he told me. "Let's go out for dinner tonight. We're going to be _just fine_ from now on! I promise! Everything will be fine!" He sounded so happy and there were even tears starting into his eyes. He looked at me with a broad smile, grinning brightly as he settled me down on my feet. I frowned slightly at his words, causing him to falter as well. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Wasn't everything fine before?" I asked, confused.

"Well, yes… but now we don't have to worry about money." I considered this. Financial troubles did cause problems, true, but I didn't think our financial issues were _that_ bad. I nodded slowly. "Come on. Let's go home, get cleaned up, and go out. I want to celebrate with my favorite girl." I didn't tell him I was pretty much his only girl at the moment.

We did as he suggested and he urged me to go get changed into one of my nicer dresses before going to get changed himself. I picked out a neat looking pale-blue dress with a rosy flower print and had a lacy-edged white petticoat to go with it. I changed and went to him for help with the ribbon belt that was to go around my waist. He helped me out, smiling. "I need to go get my socks and shoes," I told him seriously, taking in his appearance of neat white button-down shirt, charcoal gray vest, black slacks, and his usual accessories of belt and whatnot.

"Yes," he smiled. "You do need to get shoes on. Go get them." I didn't really get to get them myself as he followed me and helped me out. I giggled as he deliberately tickled the bottom of one foot before he put on one knee-high stocking before pushing my little white patent shoe on firmly to my little foot. He buttoned it firmly before doing the same for the other foot. "All done," he grinned before attacking my sides with fast fingers. I giggled, trying to worm away. "Ready to go eat?" He didn't let up for a few moments before permitting me some room to breathe and I nodded.

"Yes!" I hugged him impulsively despite the evil fingers that he'd used against me and he hugged me back. "But… what happened? Were they impressed?"

"Obviously," he told me with a little pomposity despite the fact he was hugging me. Detangling his arms from around me, he stood and looked down. "In fact, they said it was an incredibly ingenious method of alchemy and execution." He'd not told me this before, choosing to keep his testing to himself until he'd heard one way or another. I knew he'd been fretting all week long, too. It had been an insanely lucky miracle he'd not been required to go to Central to be tested like every other State Alchemist. If he'd been required to, he'd have asked Grandma or Mrs. Liu to watch after me. "And I have a new rank and title, too."

"You do?" I asked, wondering at him. He nodded.

"I'm technically an honorary Major, but I only have the commanding ability of a Captain. And all State Alchemists get second names." I listened carefully despite having part of this before. "I'm the Flame Alchemist now."

The Flame Alchemist. It was a piece I'd been wondering about and it seemed my faint memory hadn't been wholly inaccurate. Extremely broad strokes were one thing, but inaccuracy was something else.

"The Flame Alchemist?" I repeated. He nodded. "You sound pretty amazing."

"And I didn't sound amazing before?" he asked in mock hurt.

"You're _always_ amazing, Daddy," I told him seriously. He smiled instantly at my words. "Now you sound _more_ amazing."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome!" I chirped brightly. As he took my hand, I felt reassured that my Daddy wouldn't be sent out. State Alchemists weren't called on to go to battle. They were supposed to help develop new weaponry for Amestris, yes, but not go to battle. "Can we write a letter to Uncle Maes and Grandma and Grandpa to tell them?"

"Of course," he nodded. "We can do that." I looked away, missing the slight tenseness in his expression that developed once my gaze was elsewhere. I didn't realize it yet but, even though the financial expenses were no longer a major worry, other worries had taken their place. I was thrilled my father was no longer in danger of going to war even though Uncle Maes would soon be sent out.

I didn't realize that the rules were going to change now that he was a State Alchemist _and_ an enlisted soldier.

.

My father's birthday came quickly enough and I had bought the materials I needed to transmute a figure for him. Fortunately it was on a Saturday, which meant I wasn't going to go to school. He fortunately had the day off, too, which made it even better. Now that he was a State Alchemist, his hours were more standardized and that meant he got weekends off though I now had to walk home from school alone more often than not.

"What's this?" he asked as he woke up that particular morning and I grinned at him as I dusted my hands off from having drawn a circle on the floorboards.

"I wanted to make something for you with alchemy!" I told him, puffing out my chest some.

"Really?" he asked, interested. My talent with alchemy had increased over the time we spent here in East City, of course. Constant exposure to the science had helped me tremendously though I didn't think I'd ever become an alchemist of my father's caliber. I had no interest to. In fact, I still rather liked the idea of becoming a veterinarian alchemist that designed zoos. I still had my plans for the zoo reconstruction, honestly, and it was something of a dream of _two_ childhoods to become a veterinarian.

I was somewhat determined to fulfill that dream now. I had more intelligence in this life, after all, and was doing chemistry at an age where I'd not understood such things before. I figured becoming a doctor was a lot more possible this time, even if it was 'only' a veterinarian.

Still, right now it was my Dad's birthday and I wanted to make him a present. This wouldn't be something made out of popsicle sticks, glitter, and glue but rather a bunch of glass marbles along with a spool of bronze wire.

Dad watched as I first sketched out my circle, silent as I drew it out, and then raised an eyebrow at the coil of wire I put into the circle along with the marbles previously mentioned. "What are you making, Xiao-Hua?" he asked.

"It's a surprise!" I chirped before getting down to business. I'd spent some serious time making sketches and calculating how much material I'd needed. I sat for a moment, building the image in my head.

"Need help?" he asked.

"Dad!" I whined, pouting at him. "I was working on it!"

"You looked stuck," he defended, holding up his hands. I sulked. "Go on."

"What if I don't wanna anymore?" I huffed, folding my arms over my chest. I probably looked cute if the amused look on his face was any indication. His lips were fighting to not smile and were, as a result, twitching noticeably.

"I suppose there's no helping it. I'll just have to do without a present for my birthday." He sounded forlorn but he was obviously laughing at me. I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Stop that, Xiao-Hua," he told me. "You're not allowed to do that until you're thirty."

"I'm not allowed to do _anything_ until I'm thirty," I protested.

"For the safety of my hair color, you definitely aren't allowed to date or cop an attitude until you're thirty." I groaned, flopping backwards onto the floor despite the fact my calves were underneath me. It was very uncomfortable but I could do it. To relieve some of that discomfort, I shifted my legs so my feet weren't directly under my rump. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I replied, staring up. "Just contemplating the ceiling plaster."

"You're too young to be using sarcasm so fluently. Come on, Xiao-Hua. Do your transmutation so we can eat breakfast." Encouraged, I pushed up and pouted at him before sighing and nodding.

"Yes, Daddy."

I transmuted the brass and colored marbles, bringing together the image I'd envisioned and the materials I'd procured.

What was left behind after the fountain of lighting died down was something like one of those fancy enameled eggs I recalled from a long time ago only with more of a jewel-like exterior than enamel, carefully shaped diamonds of glass caught in a framework of brass wire. It sat on a base of bronze with three claw-like feet.

Dad was staring, arms unfolding from over his chest. He came over to pick it up and hefted it lightly. "It's not solid," he noted.

"Nope."

"No, _sir_ ," he corrected, arching a brow at me. He turned his attention back to the egg and noted the solid band of brass just above the exact center of the egg and both the obvious hinge and the clasp. Opening it, he found another surprise inside. I was also thrilled to see it was perfectly formed. "Xiao-Hua…" His words were floored. "I see now why you had to concentrate so hard. You did a beautiful job."

"Thank you," I replied, accepting the compliment. The brass egg had become a solid yet thin brass shell, the banding on the outside both to help the rigidity and holding the multi-colored glass bits.

"I like it," he concluded. "Thank you." He closed the egg, hiding single rose I'd sculpted within it, made of delicate glass petals and brass wirework.

"You're welcome." He hugged me close, careful with the egg, before putting the transmutation onto the mantle. I had already picked out a few details I'd messed up on, mostly because I couldn't do the faceting I'd wanted to do and there were faint transmutation scales here and there, but it was advanced work even with the imperfections. Doing it all at once had been hard, harder than anything else I'd done, so it was really good considering how I'd just jumped levels from basic transmutations to something more advanced.

Of course, I would spend the rest of the day with my father. Breakfast, fun, and all. We called Grandma and Grandpa, of course, and got a call from Uncle Maes wishing Dad a happy birthday. He didn't mention anything about his girlfriend, which made me wonder if she'd dumped him, but otherwise seemed cheerful if by the way he chattered Dad's ear off.

All in all, it was a great birthday.

.

"Xiao-Hua." I was walking down the road with my dad after school and looked up at him. He was clearly upset and I'd noticed it when I'd met up with him that afternoon.

"What is it, Dad?"

"Your uncle… was deployed." I felt a shiver of fear down my spine as my eyes widened.

"Ishval?" I asked.

"Yes." I gulped. "Dawn." He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him. His gaze was serious as I looked up. "Dawn, he'll be fine."

"Don't lie," I told him, surprising him and myself with how hollow my voice sounded. "Don't lie. You can't promise that."

"You made him promise, though," he reminded. I'd forgotten that, actually. I dropped my eyes, staring more at his chest than at his face. "You made both of us promise, remember?"

"Yes," I mumbled. "Daddy?" My voice was pained as I spoke up once more. I looked up at him, aware I looked afraid. "What if you're deployed?"

"That's not going to happen," he promised me. "They don't send out State Alchemists, remember?"

"But what if they do?"

"Then I'll have to go," he admitted. "But…" He faltered, looking around us. People walked past, vehicles trundled along, and none of it looked like it was a country at war. I looked down at my toes, swallowing thickly again. He sighed and seemed to give up on trying to explain whatever was going through his head because he hugged me close. "We'll get through this."

"Can I write Uncle Maes?" I asked him.

"Of course. I'm sure he'll love hearing from you." There were a few more moments before he escorted me home and we worked on dinner.

Some hours later, I found myself standing staring at the mirror before my nightly bath. The water was running, warming, as I looked at my features.

I'd matured a lot over the years and sometimes I could almost swear I aged as I watched my reflection. Six and a half didn't sound like much, honestly, but I vaguely remembered what I looked like as a toddler. I had pictures still around, too. Dad didn't replace the older pictures _that_ often, so I could go out to the living room to look at it.

My hair was long. Long enough, in fact, to just reach my waist. I had barely had it cut over my life and sometimes I wondered if it would be better to cut it off to something more manageable. I looked much like I had at two-three years old only older. I still had the same color of eyes and the same pale skin and the same blend of my father's and mother's features. I still looked distinctly Xingese but not _too_ Xingese.

I also knew what the mirror _didn't_ show. I knew that beneath the skin of a little girl was a much older soul. I knew that she was a contradiction of thoughts and instincts, of a child and an adult. I knew that she was loved by many, cared for, and had many people she loved.

I also knew that she had changed several people's lives irrevocably.

Turning from the mirror, I climbed into the shower to clean up. Dad didn't need to stay with me all the time anymore though the door remained unlocked. I didn't have to fear him barging in, thankfully, but in case I had trouble he could come right in.

I had written a letter to Uncle Maes, of course, and reminded him that I expected him to come home among the simpler things such as how I was doing in school, how my alchemy was progressing, and anything else I could think of to make him feel included and not so far away. It wouldn't be mailed until tomorrow, but at least it was ready and waiting for the mailbox. I hoped, selfishly, that Dad wouldn't be sent out, too. I hoped that I'd changed enough things to keep him from going.

Once I was clean, I left the shower and toweled off before pulling on my sleeping clothes. I opened the door to the bathroom, not looking again into the mirror, and found my father on the phone. I looked at him, puzzled, but it seemed that the conversation was concluding and he was soon hanging up the phone. He looked over to see me and plastered a smile on his face. It didn't quite reach his eyes and I didn't return the gesture. "All done?" he asked somewhat unnecessarily.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "Who was that?"

"Your grandfather," he answered honestly. "Nothing to worry about." I did, though. I did worry.

"Okay," I said, audibly dismissing it. "Can you read me a story?" I hadn't asked for one in some time and the surprise was visible on his face.

"Of course," he agreed. "No problem." I smiled before he shuffled me off into bed and settled me in. Studiously, he tucked my blankets around me, careful to not catch my hair. I watched him. "What story would you like?"

"Something where the good guy wins," I told him. He looked momentarily baffled before chuckling somewhat.

"There aren't many stories that can be told in a single night like _that_ , Xiao-Hua," he told me.

"I know." I considered him before asking, "Would you like me to tell _you_ a story?" He smiled indulgently and nodded. I shuffled to sit up and put my hands into my lap, well aware I'd disrupted his neat tucking.

"I'd like that very much. What story do you have for me?" I thought about it before deciding on one that I vaguely recalled. I took a breath to start, blanked for a moment, and frowned before moving to start again. "You don't have to if you don't want to," he assured.

"No. I was just trying to think how it should start," I told him seriously. "But… here…" I drew another breath. "In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit."

"What's a hobbit?" he asked.

"A small person about a meter tall," I told him. "Not human but a hobbit! With pointy ears and bare feet with wooly hair on them, and they're really peaceful and not very adventurous for the most part. They farm and build houses into hills!"

"That doesn't sound like a story where the good guy wins," Dad noted.

"Because not _every one_ of them were uneventful!" I pouted.

"Alright, alright," he assented. "Go on.

"Anyway, the hole wasn't dirty or wet or anything like that. And it wasn't a dry hole with nothing to eat and no comforts. It was a _hobbit hole_ … and that meant comfort." He looked at me, amused. "This hobbit's name was Bilbo."

"What kind of name is that?" he asked.

"It's a _hobbit_ name! Do you want to hear this story or not?" I asked, incensed. He made a motion of buttoning his lip and I eyed him carefully before nodding shortly. "His name was Bilbo _Baggins_ and he was a nice, normal hobbit, thank you very much." He snorted. I glared. "He didn't do _anything_ unexpected… until one day someone arrived at his home. It was an old man, bent and gray with a long beard and a walking staff with a twisted top, a pointed hat with a wide brim, and a long cloak all in gray. Bilbo greeted him with a polite 'good day' but the old man, who was twice as tall as he was as he was a man and not a hobbit, asked him promptly if it was really a good day or a day to be good on or if he was merely _wishing_ for the old man to have a good day. Bilbo returned that he supposed it was all three because he'd been smoking and enjoying his afternoon and he hadn't really put any thought into it."

"Is there a point to this?" my father asked. I glared. "Sorry. Go on."

I huffed before telling my father of the rest of the encounter with Gandalf before the old wizard disappeared and how Bilbo forgot about the offer of tea on Wednesday because he'd not written it down as he'd been flustered and hadn't thought the old man really intended to take him up on the offer. I told him about how, on that Wednesday around teatime, there was a knock on the door and how there was an unknown dwarf that soon introduced himself. I couldn't remember which one came first in all actuality though I could remember all thirteen dwarves' names after some effort (it helped they came in twos and threes of rhyming save for Thorin's name). I told him about how Gandalf had decided Bilbo would be the fourteenth member of the company to help dispel the bad luck of thirteen and the job involved.

"A dragon?" he asked, clearly amused.

"Yes, a big fiery one with red scales!" I told him. He smirked.

"Like this? Rargh!" I squealed as he attacked me with hands formed like talons and tickled me mercilessly for some time. Once I recovered my breath from his tickle attack, he shook his head. "What an imagination, Xiao-Hua," he complimented. "But your story doesn't have an end and you can't stay up much longer."

"But there's a _point_ to the story, Daddy," I told him as he readjusted my blankets.

"Oh?"

"You don't have to be great to make great things happen. You just have to _care_ enough to do something." He gave me a long, thoughtful look.

"Like you?" he asked. I felt a brief surge of panic at that before chastising myself for such foolishness.

"Yeah," I agreed. He kissed me on the forehead. "Dad… Can I tell you more tomorrow night?"

"Of course. I can't wait to hear more about wizards and dragons and hobbits."

"And dwarves," I reminded.

"And dwarves," he agreed. "Sleep well. Sweet dreams."

"You, too, Daddy."

.

I suddenly noticed something one day walking back and forth to school that took me aback. Before, there hadn't been a _lot_ of Ishvalans in the military. Only enough to account for, perhaps, five to ten percent of the total military. There was one man I'd seen commonly enough, though, that I'd taken him as a matter of course going along. I assumed his path was along the same lines as mine and sometimes we crossed as he went to and from work.

I hadn't seen him lately. I tried hard to pinpoint when he'd vanished from my sight and something about it bothered me in a way I wasn't sure about but found deeply unsettling. The man had disappeared.

I paused near a flower stand, thinking about Miss Harlow and how she was doing. I wondered if she still dated Uncle Maes and if she'd one day be my aunt. I wondered what had happened to the Ishvalan soldier. Had he defected and gone to help his relations in Ishval? Before, he'd seemed very proud of his uniform. All the buttons were well-polished and sometimes had glinted with the sun when I'd seen him. I wondered about Uncle Maes and how he was doing. I'd gotten a letter back, of course, and in it he had told me how he was doing and wanted to know more about school. I had immediately written back, wanting very much to converse with him and make sure I kept constant contact. I wondered about Miss Hawkeye, too. I'd never met her, but Dad had loved her. I wondered if she'd found her place in the world now that her father was gone.

"What are you doing out here alone?" I looked up, startled and suddenly defensive, as a large shadow loomed over me. The man was dressed in the military uniform but he was tall and broad-shouldered. I momentarily wondered if his uniform had been custom made because it looked to be well-fitted.

"I'm sorry, sir," I apologized, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed me standing dazed. That wouldn't have been good if I'd been snatched. Even now, I couldn't guarantee my safety with this man. "I was just thinking."

"And how old are you?" he asked, voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder.

"Six and a half," I replied honestly. "I'm just going home from school, sir. I do it whenever Dad can't pick me up from school." He seemed intrigued as I took in more of his features. His face was like it had been chiseled from rock, full of broad planes and strong features. His jaw was square and his nose big and angular. He was bald, perhaps to the point he nominally shaved his head and kept it perfectly neat… except for one peculiarity on his otherwise bald pate. He had a blonde lock of hair poking out from where his widow's peak would have possibly been, twirled and waxed into a curl. His upper lip was also sporting blonde hair in the form of a meticulously trimmed, curled, and waxed mustache. His chin was devoid of any fuzz but clearly he could have a beard if he so chose considering how the space between his nose and mouth looked. Interestingly enough, despite his very strong features and very intimidating stature, his bright blue eyes were… gentle. Looking the rest of him over, I recognized the silver chain that dangled from one belt loop to pocket. I looked up immediately again. "You're a State Alchemist," I said only to blush at my audacity. He seemed pleased by the recognition, though.

"I am!" he boomed before lowering his voice as I jumped back. "You're a very smart little girl."

"Thank you," I told him. "But… my Dad's a State Alchemist, too." He blinked.

"Really?" He considered my features, no doubt trying to guess who my father was. "Who is he?" he asked instead of guessing.

"Ah… Roy Mustang," I replied. His interest was obvious and his eyes positively sparkled.

I think more than his eyes sparkled, but as I'd never been in the presence of a man who could _glitter_ before… I was going to say the sun was in my eyes and leave it at that.

"I've heard of him," he noted. "He's stationed here in East City, yes?" I nodded uncertainly. "I've yet to meet him, though. I hadn't heard he had a daughter, though. He's pretty young." I blushed and looked down at my toes. "Don't be ashamed, Miss Mustang," he told me gently, patting one large hand on my head. "I'm sure you're someone of great importance to him." I nodded, not daring to say that he'd been a teenage father. Anyone who did the math would figure it out but I didn't like to have his nose rubbed in it all the time. He had been sixteen when I'd been born. He was twenty-three now. I knew how bad that looked. "I'm Alexander Armstrong, otherwise known as the Strongarm Alchemist." I looked up at his kind face.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Dawn Mustang."

"A pretty name," he mused, smiling obviously despite the disguising of his mouth thanks to that oversized and over-stylized caterpillar on his upper lip.

"Thank you," I replied. "Why are you here, sir?" Then I flushed, realizing how rude that was. Armstrong, however, looked far from offended.

"Good eye!" he chortled. "You're right, Miss Mustang. I'm not from East City. I am normally stationed in Central." I looked up at him, then. "I was asked to run a short errand here to East City. Some documentation for the State Alchemist Program that's secret." His voice had gained some volume again but not enough to make me cringe. I wondered how it looked from the outside. I was small compared to him.

"Mr. Armstrong?" I asked carefully. "Do you think the State Alchemists are going to be sent out to fight?" He looked a bit shocked and even a bit taken aback by my question.

"I… I don't think so," he said, suddenly looking troubled. "But it would be an honor to serve one's country in such a capacity." I nodded, knowing the propaganda that usually surrounded a military life.

"Thank you for being honest," I replied. "I need to get home now. It was nice talking to you."

"It was nice talking to you, too," he smiled from behind his mustache. I scooted on, still thoughtful but about new things. I didn't know how Mr. Armstrong, clearly a Major by the decorations on his (admittedly very high) shoulders, figured into everything else… But he had said something that made me worried.

' _He doesn't think so,'_ I thought to myself. _'It wasn't a definitive no. That means that it_ is _possible. State Alchemists weren't supposed to be involved in war.'_

But they could be. Had the rules changed? Had Dad hidden the fact that he was still very much a soldier in the military? And how likely was it for me to suddenly find myself living with my grandparents again because he was shipped off to a battlefield?

I shivered as I entered our apartment building and climbed up the stairs to the third floor. I knocked on Mrs. Liu's door and told her I was home before asking if she needed anything of me. She said no and I went on, unlocked my apartment door, and slipped inside. I shut it behind me and turned on the radio to a music program for the noise.

Somewhere around problem number four I'd needed to take care of for my math class, the music cut out.

" _Attention, attention. A special news bulletin. Today, his Excellency King Bradley has signed off on Fuhrer Order Number Three-Oh-Six. As of this moment, Fuhrer Bradley has accelerated the campaign to bring Ishval back under Amestrian control. Tomorrow, in an effort to end the civil war, all battle-ready State Alchemists are being deployed against the Ishvalans."_

It went on, propaganda pumping out as my pencil fell from nerveless fingers to the table. I couldn't absorb any other information at that moment, my mind buzzing with two thoughts:

Dad was a State Alchemist.

His fire would be considered 'battle-ready'.

-/-/-/-

Author's Note #2: Please note that I do not own anything of 'The Hobbit' but it has been one of my favorite stories since I was in the seventh grade (that's almost 20 years now). Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Thank you all for reading. **Please review.**


	11. In Which There is War

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: I had a review about Dawn's name and it said that she had a very 'Mary Sue' name due to the fact that I chose both time of day and a flower.

Here's my reasoning for Dawn's name: One, flower names are incredibly common recurrences throughout history and every culture, and I incorporate some Chinese (Xiao-Hua) which means 'little flower' as a reference to both her heritage and her name. Rose is an incredibly common name, in fact being very popular during that time period. Two, I actually thought it fit with what I wanted of her. 'Dawn' means a new beginning. My character was getting a 'new beginning'. Three, it was a name I'd thought about for a child of my own at one time. While it wound up being too 'trendy' to me eventually despite the oldness of the names involved, I thought it would fit with the story as a dying mother's 'last wish'. A name is a wish a parent makes for their child and Abby, Dawn's mother, had picked it out. It also would fit with her age considering she was only sixteen. Had Roy been allowed to participate, Dawn would have likely gotten a far different name. Possibly something relating to his own parents. Still, it didn't happen.

So, while Dawn's name is very 'Mary Sue', please forgive it. It might be a 'weak name', but it also has certain value. It embodies her very well. New beginnings and a fragile flower with sharp thorns. She's still a work in progress, not _everyone_ loves her, and I hope you continue to like her.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 11: In Which There is War

.

When Dad came home, his entire body language screamed tension. By the look of absolute panic on my face, I could guess he knew I knew. "Come here." I went to him immediately without a word and found his arms wrapped around me even as I dissolved into tears at his embrace. I wasn't sure what I said, it was a pretty incoherent babble, but he smoothed at my hair and hugged me as I hugged him like I was drowning.

In a very metaphorical sense, I was.

Eventually, we piled onto the couch with me cuddled into his side and his arm about my shoulders. I listened as he spoke on the phone, the base next to his leg and the cord connecting it to the wall running nearly across the room. "Yes, I have to go," he told my grandmother as she audibly fretted over the line.

" _And what about Dawn? Are you going to send her to us, Roy?"_

"I'd rather not disrupt her from school," he replied. "Not after spending so long to settle her here."

" _She can't stay there by herself. Oh… It's a shame Barty's working otherwise we'd both come to stay, but…"_

"If I need to, I can send her to you. I can have Mrs. Liu watch out for my apartment."

" _Roy,"_ she chided. _"I can at least come over myself for a while. If it goes on too long, I'd bring her back with me, but…"_

"Sarah, it's going to be at least six months," he told her. I gripped his shirt. His hand ran soothingly over my back. "This stupid civil war is going into full mobilization and…" He sighed. "I wish they'd stop fighting. I don't even really know _why_ this all started in the first place."

" _I heard rumor of the child,"_ Grandma told him.

"Before that," he sighed. "Before that child was killed, it was _tense_. I don't know what started it at all. Whatever happened, it was like fire put to kindling."

" _Speaking of fire, do you think your ability will be good enough to survive?"_

"I don't know," Dad admitted honestly. "But I've made a few promises… and they're ones I plan on keeping." His hand soothed at me as he looked down. "I promised to survive if I was sent out. I promised I'd always come home… and I promised you that I'd never leave her behind."

Heavy silence was heard on the line before a choked sob echoed to us from Central. _"Oh, Roy."_

"It's not a death sentence, Sarah," he told Grandma. "Yes, I'll be going out… but I won't go out there to die."

I just hoped he wasn't lying… He had to survive. If not for me, then for the brothers. I clung to my daddy that night, burrowed into his bed with him, and wishing the sun wouldn't come again because then, at least, he'd not be sent away.

.

The next day, Grandma took a train to East City and had followed directions to the apartment for she arrived while I was at school and Dad was busy making arrangements for his absence.

When I came home, he had already come home to let her in and they were quietly talking when I pushed open the door. Their words silenced and I looked at them in confusion and fear. "Dawn," smiled Grandma. "Come here. You've grown so much."

It was a nicety but one I had to pay attention to. I wandered over and climbed up into her lap, earning a grunt and an 'oomph, you've gotten so big!' from her. I cuddled, looking to Dad. "You're not going to tell her 'hello'?" he asked, vaguely warning me about my niceties.

"Be gentle, Roy," Grandma chided before pressing a kiss in to my hair. "She's afraid."

"I know. She's barely spoken…" He looked a bit pained at that.

"You'll just have to write lots of letters," Grandma smiled encouragingly. My eyes didn't leave Dad even as I clung to her. "Isn't that right, Dawn?" I nodded and was hugged again. "Oh, baby girl, you're a sweetie."

My eyes burned with unshed tears and I wanted to scream and throw a fit. I fought against it but my nose betrayed me and I sniffed loudly. The action, naturally, made some tears fall. "Xiao-Hua," mourned my father, fingers dabbing at my tears, and I climbed from Grandma to him and he held me close, tucking my head under his chin. My chin wobbled as I fought tears though I didn't have much success.

"Please don't go?" I begged, even if I knew it was a fruitless plea.

"You know I have to," he murmured, his chest rumbling with his voice. I closed my eyes, wishing I could make the war go away. That way Dad wouldn't have to go and Uncle Maes wouldn't have to stay away. Grandma was looking at me with pity, an expression I both appreciated and hated.

All too soon, I was sent to take a bath and settle down for bed. Dad took the couch, freeing up his bed for Grandma. Or, should I say, Dad _would_ have taken the couch except for the fact that I was pretty much behaving like a limpet. Thankfully, he assented to my behavior and chose to sleep in my bed with me. Thankfully, he and I both fit despite it being a single bed.

He clung to me as much as I clung to him because we both knew all too soon he'd be gone.

.

The next day, Dad left. Grandma kept me home from school so we could see him off and I watched as he boarded a train to head out to Ishval. He was mixed in with so many other blue uniforms, but I kept track of him. I could also see Mr. Armstrong in the crowd because he stood head-and-shoulders above the rest. He also was very unique…

My main focus, of course, was on my Dad as Grandma stood just behind me with her hands on my shoulders. He glanced up once before he vanished within the train and raised his hand in obvious farewell. I waved back, my eyes streaming with tears. I knew he had his rucksack of things and among those items was a picture of us taken just that summer. I knew he would be as safe as he possibly could.

I couldn't see him from the windows of the train from where we stood, but we weren't permitted on the platform with the embarking soldiers. Grandma thankfully didn't lie to me. She didn't tell me he'd come back. She knew it would be a statement that could easily become a lie.

"Come on," she murmured as the train blew its whistle. "We need to go." I looked up at her and then nodded solemnly before looking to the train Dad had gotten onto. I watched as it shuddered and began to chug away. I watched as it carried him east to war.

"Okay," I whispered. She took my hand and guided me from the station, past crowds of other people who had waved off their family.

I'd like to say I didn't take it hard but… I took it hard. I didn't speak except for monosyllabic, dispirited words for the rest of the day.

.

 _Xiao-Hua,_

 _I'm doing well here in Ishval. I've not seen your Uncle Maes, yet, but perhaps I will in time. People are shuffled around all the time out here. I was assigned some guards, if it makes you feel better. Apparently, each State Alchemist has three or four assigned to them so to better ensure the capability of the alchemist._

 _One thing I wish was different was that it wasn't so hot out here. There isn't very much in the way of trees, either. It's either sand or scrub brush like scraggly bushes and hardy grasses. Our current encampment is in an abandoned village and I am certain we'll be going on soon._

I read onwards, looking at the words hidden within the words even as my grandmother soothed her hands over my hair. He mentioned fighting in passing, of course, and how it was an honor to serve one's country. I wondered if he'd spoken to Mr. Armstrong.

Despite this, I could sense the vague discontent in his words. He wanted to come home. He didn't want to be separated from me. He didn't blatantly say he wanted to come home, naturally, but he said he missed me.

"What's it say, baby girl?" crooned Grandma. I handed the letter silently to her and she took it, pressing a kiss to my hair. "He sounds like he's doing alright," she mused. When I didn't immediately respond, she sighed wearily. "Dawn, you can't keep moping."

"Yes, I can," I returned mulishly. She popped me for that, earning a yelp. I turned to her, rubbing at the ear she'd boxed as I stared with wide eyes.

"Young lady, that's no way to talk to your grandmother," she scolded firmly. The hard look gentled. "I know why you're upset," she added. "I know you miss your father. But you _can't_ take it out on everyone else." I sighed, lowering my hand and my eyes. She took my chin and forced me to look at her. "Now, are we going to write a letter back to him? And to your Uncle Maes?"

"What if he doesn't come back? What if _neither_ of them come back?" I asked. "What happens then?"

"What happens to you, you mean?" she asked gently. I nodded. "I'd take you home with me, sweetheart. You won't go to an orphanage."

"I know," I mumbled. "But… _Dad_."

"It would hurt a lot to lose him," she admitted. "After he'd become so close…" I swallowed and nodded. "Well, it would hurt." She sighed, gaze pained as she looked at me. She even smoothed a hand along my face. "But we would do everything we could to remember him." I nodded quietly. "Let's write a letter," she encouraged. "Let's give him a reason to come home."

.

The letters I got back were pretty frequent as school progressed as normal. I got back into the habit of speaking without behaving like a brat, especially at school, and used my studies as a form of distraction. Grandma and I took a train ride back to Central every other weekend, arriving late on Friday and leaving again on Sunday to start all over again. Grandpa, of course, was as worried as the rest of our family but his job didn't allow him to take off.

I studied alchemy, the only way I felt close to Dad still. I did as told, hardly mischievous like I'd once been. My thoughts were generally a long way from wherever I was at the moment despite working hard and doing what I needed to do for whatever I needed to take care of.

My friendships suffered some, too. Not all the kids had suffered the loss of a parent being shipped out and, yes, many of them had been bummed when they'd first seen them off. I, however, was taking it a lot harder than any of them and no one, not even Laura, understood.

I mostly thought about how much the world would change if my father didn't come home. I thought about having to move back to Central, to my old friends, and to possibly lose everything I had here with him. I thought about the brothers, Ed-something and the big one that Dad had found. I thought about Miss Hawkeye, who loved him and would possibly grieve if she found out he was dead. I thought about Uncle Maes, who was out there too. I thought about what would happen if he came back without Dad and how he'd be affected.

Then I thought about it in a larger perspective. I was thinking about things in a personal way and from a barely-remembered story. In the larger scheme of things, Dad wasn't that important. He was a State Alchemist, sure, and the Flame Alchemist to boot… but that meant little in the grand scheme of things. Except for his family and a chiseled name on a headstone and _possibly_ a monument with another chiseled name, very few would really miss him. He was merely an honorary Major, someone who hadn't done any great deeds of note. He wouldn't really be missed by the military except for the fact he'd not given over the secret ways of the fire alchemy. In fact, his journal containing the notes that Miss Hawkeye had given him had been hidden from everyone except for me. Only I knew about the loose panel underneath the sideboard in the dining room. Only I knew that beneath that piece of furniture and the short board was a snugly-fit cedar box with all the notes he'd worked on. And he had told me that, should he die, I was to make sure it stayed safe. I think he wanted me to give it back to Miss Hawkeye if he died, but I wasn't certain.

Still, Dad wasn't that big of a deal. Sure, he'd found those boys. Sure, he meant something to some people… but he wasn't indispensable.

And the fact that his life wasn't guaranteed scared me far more than I was willing to admit.

.

Winter Solstice came again and Grandma, after speaking to Mrs. Liu, closed the apartment and took me back with her to Central for the holidays. Dad and Uncle Maes were still in Ishval though they had managed to find each other by this point. Miss Hawkeye had apparently appeared there, too, and Dad said in a letter he was shocked that she'd gone into the military.

He also made mention that he'd been the one to suggest it, too.

I got a letter from her as well, the unfamiliar writing pretty and loopy even as I interpreted it. I wrote a letter back, responding to her kindness and letting her know about some small things. Dad had encouraged it in the letter that came with it, saying that she had no one to write to back home. Everyone she had contact with was in the military… and the one little girl of her one-time lover.

By this point, I was collecting the various letters in boxes with each person getting a box. I also organized by date so that it would be a positive progression of time. When we went to Central, Grandma had written a letter to say we would be staying there and that we wished Dad and his friends a good Winter Solstice.

Our Winter Solstice had been very subdued as none of us had the heart to do anything without the fourth member of our family.

Despite my attentiveness and advanced nature, the letters sent to me were watered down. Dad saw action, I could tell by what few things he _did_ put in, but in each written sentence there was a form of… _tension_ that didn't quite match the levity of what he was talking about. That same tension echoed across Miss Hawkeye and Uncle Maes's letters, too. It had something to do with the writing, I eventually decided, but no matter how I pressed they didn't illuminate upon what was bothering them.

Uncle Maes, I read one day after the New Year, had been split from Miss Hawkeye and Dad into another unit. He told me about the man, Armstrong, and commented on his strong alchemy. His supposition was that I'd like Armstrong and was amused when he learned I'd met the man.

Then I started getting letters from _him_ , too. Armstrong's writing was as flowery as the man had behaved but there was a sort of strength to the forming of his letters. It oddly suited him. However, if there was something off in the words of my father's, my uncle's, and Miss Hawkeye's words… there was something practically _screaming_ issues with Mr. Armstrong's.

He talked about how it was far harder to serve one's country than he'd thought and how it was a relief to write to someone who was innocent. There had been evidence of tearstains on his papers and offhanded remarks about Kimblee, a man I'd briefly met once and hadn't liked at all. What was left unsaid between all four military people's letters painted a dark picture for me, one that worried me endlessly. I think Grandma picked up on it, too, but she didn't speculate with me even though I tried to talk to her about it.

Finally, one day, I got a letter from Uncle Maes saying that Mr. Armstrong had been sent back home to Central due to disobedience. He also strongly encouraged me to go see him, hinting that he'd appreciate it. I in turn showed the letter to my grandmother and she frowned thoughtfully.

Thankfully, she agreed to a trip.

.

It had taken some time to ask around and find out where Mr. Armstrong was but, finally, I learned about it. He'd spent a short stint in the hospital before choosing to be discharged and went home to his family's estate.

When I found out where he lived, however, I was in for a shock.

"That's a big house," I mumbled to my grandmother who had come along with me. We both stared at the gate of the Armstrong Estate and right through it to the huge house across a sweeping lawn.

"That's what some call a mansion," Grandma told me. She swallowed and I agreed with the sentiment. "Well, I'm glad we phoned ahead." She moved up to the gate and pressed a button set into a box with a grill.

" _Who is it?"_ asked a tinny voice from the speaker.

"This is Sarah Edgecombe and her granddaughter, Dawn Mustang. Mr. Alex Armstrong is supposed to be expecting us?" Grandma said somewhat tentatively. There was a long silence. "We called ahead," she added.

" _One moment."_ There was a long, undefinable moment before a man appeared from what I guessed to be a guardhouse somewhere just out of sight. The man eyed us speculatively before opening the side gate that wasn't the main one and motioned for us to enter.

"Welcome to the Armstrong Estate," he bowed slightly before closing the gate firmly. "We'll take the car up to the main house so you ladies don't have to walk." He motioned to the car he meant, ironically just in front of the guardhouse I'd postulated on, and we slipped into the backseat after he opened the door. He didn't say another word as he drove us up to the entrance.

The two women who greeted us there were… likely related. One was tall, willowy, and not very beautiful with blonde hair that matched Mr. Armstrong's in color and a natural curl that mimicked his forelock that hadn't been shaved off. She looked worried even as we got out, Grandma taking my hand, and forced a small smile onto her face. The other one was far younger, perhaps her daughter, and had that same popularly blonde hair with that same errant curl that popped up. She had blue eyes where her mother's eyes were brown and she was very pretty all considered. She looked as worried as the older woman but less severe.

"Greetings," the older woman said. "I'm Emelia Armstrong and this is my youngest daughter, Catherine." The younger woman bowed a little. "I hear you're here to see my son?"

"Yes, Mrs. Armstrong," Grandma told her. "This one's uncle asked her to." The curious blink at me was a bit more focused. "Apparently Dawn met Mr. Armstrong when he visited East City right before he was drafted to go to Ishval. Maes, her adoptive uncle, thinks she can help him."

"And you believe this to be possible, too?" asked the Armstrong matriarch.

"Dawn has a way about her, I can attest to that," Grandma told the woman seriously. "She's been someone who has irrevocably changed my life and not just because I'm her grandmother." She offered a slightly bitter smile. "Her mother died in childbirth… but she has reminded me that, though my daughter is gone, a part of her still remains and I love Dawn all the more for it." I looked up at her before deliberately letting go of her hand. She made to grab at me again, but I went up to the two Armstrong women and looked at them seriously even as they looked at me with mild curiosity.

"Uncle Maes said he was hurting," I told them. "He said something happened that really hurt Mr. Armstrong. I want to help."

"What's the worst that can happen, Mother?" Catherine asked of the woman beside her quietly. "Perhaps this is what Alex needs?"

"Perhaps you're right," murmured Emelia. "Please come in," she said to us. "I've been rude long enough without inviting you in properly." We went into the large mansion and I looked around briefly before having my attention drawn to an unmistakable, actual maid. I'd never seen a maid dressed in an actual black dress with white apron and cap before, but she was genuinely there in front of us. "Henrietta, please go get Alex for us. Oh, and send someone with a service. We'll be in the parlor."

"Yes, ma'am," assented the woman before hurrying off. I found my shoulder being taken by my grandmother again as we followed the two women into the aforementioned parlor.

"I apologize that my husband isn't here to greet you as well, but he does have things he needs to take care of," Emelia told my grandmother.

"How old are you, Dawn?" asked Catherine. I looked at her even as Grandma silently directed me to sit down.

"I'm nearly seven," I told her.

"Seven? Really?" she marveled. I nodded. "And how many military people do you know?"

"Not many very well," I admitted. "There's my dad and my Uncle Maes. I've been writing Miss Hawkeye, too, and spent a little time writing Mr. Armstrong when he was in Ishval. I've never met Miss Hawkeye face to face, though."

"Anyone else?" I shook my head.

"I met a lot of military people, but I don't really know them."

She smiled. "You're a very smart girl."

"She is," Grandma told her with a touch of pride. "She's already practicing alchemy. I mostly blame her father on that one, though." Both women looked surprised even as a tea set was placed on the table.

"Really? That's a very young age," Emelia noted. "Would you like some tea?" As a proper hostess, Catherine was the one pressed into service to distribute the cups but even as Grandma received one, Mr. Armstrong appeared.

He looked haggard, which was kind of impressive considering he still looked fairly kept up and neat. There were dark circles under his eyes and a fathomless sort of pain I could immediately see in them. His clothes were clean and unrumpled, but they weren't the military blues so he hadn't been intending to go to work today or so I guessed. His curl didn't seem quite right nor did his mustache even though both had been waxed. Perhaps it was more rote than anything.

"Alex, dear, come say hello to our guests," Emelia encouraged as I mentally catalogued his appearance. His gaze slid dully over us before offering a slight bow.

I was on my feet and moving towards him before I even registered what I was doing. It was definitely before he gave a proper greeting. "Hello, Mr. Armstrong," I greeted once I was about a meter away. He looked at me quizzically before I added, "Remember me? I'm Dawn Mustang." His eyes widened at the reintroduction. "Can you show me your alchemy?" I asked disingenuously, wondering vaguely if this was appropriate to demand of him. "Uncle Maes said it was really impressive."

"Of… of course," he offered. "I would be honored." I grinned.

"Then I can show you mine! But don't tell Dad I showed you, alright? He'd be mad at me if I did alchemy away from where he could keep an eye on me!"

And like that, I had him hooked. I could see it. There was something in his gaze that wasn't happy still but there was something _else_ alongside that sadness that gave me hope.

Ten minutes later, we were outside behind the house and he was showing me these fist-weapons he had. "Wow. I bet it'd hurt if you hit someone with those," I mused aloud, lifting one of the heavy metal things.

"Yes… I hurt a lot of people with them," he admitted, looking shamed. I looked up, seeing the tears standing in his eyes.

"It's okay to cry," I blurted before wincing. He sniffed loudly, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief he pulled out.

"I've cried perhaps too much lately," he admitted gruffly.

"But you have to cry _sometimes_ ," I tried to rationalize. "Crying is the way you get the sadness out so it doesn't hurt you so much." I fought a wince at how childish that sounded. Looking down at the gauntlet, I wondered how I could make him feel better. "Mr. Armstrong, do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he said shortly. "Not to a child like you. It would be wrong." I looked up at him.

"Can I guess?" He looked surprised by the words. "You killed people." He winced at my matter-of-fact tone. "Or you watched people die," I added. "And you found out you didn't like that. That it hurt you when you saw them hurt."

"Yes," he admitted, curious of me and introspective all at once. "I… I killed and watched others die…" His voice choked and I felt my own tears burn at my eyes upon witnessing his obvious grief.

"You're a really nice person, Mr. Armstrong," I told him. "And nice people don't like it when others feel pain." He was sobbing now. I'd reduced a full-grown man to tears. It was not something I particularly liked the feeling of. I reached across the intervening space to the man who was hunched in his chair, hands pressed to his face, and unaware of my proximity. I patted that bald head, finding a short stubble covering parts of it. He'd not shaved that head recently, I realized. I also realized it was really weird to pat a bald man on the head.

Ludicrous moments aside, I watched him look up with tears running down his face and surprise in his eyes. "It's okay to cry. But… it's not okay to cry forever. Grandma pops me if I sulk too long with Daddy gone." He sniffed noisily, searching for his handkerchief. Upon finding it, he mopped at his face.

"You're a very smart little girl," he told me in that deep voice of his currently rough with emotion.

"Because I've got lots of smart people around me," I told him.

"And what does the smart girl think I should do?" I tried to figure out a good way to help him. He was so gentle despite his muscular build that he wasn't really suited to military life. He wasn't a soldier. He was more of a guardian.

"Do you want to leave the military?" He thought about it before sighing.

"No. Not truly. It's a long-standing tradition that the men of the Armstrong family enlist in the military, continuing our generations of contributions to Amestris."

"Then maybe find something in the military that won't make you cry?" He looked at me then. I'd desisted from saying 'make you kill people' simply because, really, that was probably very rude and very possibly unlikely. He looked at me. "Not everyone has to be a soldier to be… military?" I was thinking of parts of the military that never really got deployed, such as those who helped maintain the infrastructure of the military. I'm sure he wouldn't like being a desk jockey for the rest of his life, but he could probably find something that would keep him at home.

"I probably won't have to worry about that anymore," he admitted in his deep voice. "I disobeyed and they don't deploy disobedient soldiers."

"Are they going to make you quit?"

"Discharge me? Maybe," he admitted. "But there might be other options."

The darkness wasn't gone from his eyes. I knew it would take a very long time if ever for it to go. But I smiled. He smiled, too.

"Mr. Armstrong? Can you show me your alchemy?" Perhaps he associated bad things with his alchemy right now, but if he did something and I behaved suitably impressed… Well, perhaps it wouldn't be so horrible to think about for him in the future.

"Of course," he rumbled, taking the fist-weapon from me and inserting his hand into it. The thing was a cross between a steel gauntlet and spiked steel knuckles. The part that fitted over the back of his hand had a transmutation circle inscribed in it and I could easily guess that his favorite method of transmutation involved copious amounts of physical effort that revolved around punching.

I was right.

My eyes bulged as he punched his fist down onto the turf just beyond the porch we'd been sitting on as alchemy happened. It was impressive. It was _very_ impressive.

It was also kind of awesome.

I wouldn't learn until much later that alchemists that did static transmutations from some material to some other form of that same material had stylistic quirks. Generally, it came about when a particularly adept alchemist's mind would drift while transmuting something and, as a result, absently add details to the transmutation so long as it was within the original design's parameters simply because they thought in certain ways. I would, of course, develop my _own_ stylistic quirks as I got older. I would later learn that a certain blonde teenager had an inclination to make ugly gargoyles and that a certain muscle-bound man I had been comforting tended towards some narcissistic tendencies with his 'self-portrait' statues.

Right now? The man had transmuted a beautiful statue that was of a girlish figure.

It took me a few seconds for me to realize that the girl statue was based off of a real-life person…

Me.

I gaped at the statue even as he turned to look at me with some pride. My mind was unhelpfully blank, shocked into silence by this tribute to _me_ of all people. Thankfully, the man accepted this lack of response and the accompanying expression as one of amazement and awe. I was amazed. I was awed.

I was also horribly embarrassed.

"Is that supposed to be me?" I asked carefully.

"Of course. I wished to show you what I was capable of," he smiled from behind his bushy mustache. I looked to him, red-faced and wide-eyed. "Don't worry," he added, correctly interpreting my emotions. "It was merely a demonstration. You may transmute that if you wish to. We can correct the lawn later."

I nodded, blown away by the man's sweetness yet again. Of course, I had absolutely _no idea_ what to do with a statue of _me_ as a base for transmutation. There was even a largish divot in the yard where he'd pulled the soil up to form the statue on the blocky pedestal.

Still, I began to draw with some chalk he easily provided for me on the base, crouching to do so. I'd leave it, I decided, and transmute the stuff on top. What I was going to transmute was still not very clear to me but I had a few ideas.

One stuck out to me in particular. I'd once read a story a long, long time ago about a lion and a mouse. It was, of course, a moralistic story. I didn't remember the details, but I liked the idea.

It was also something I could use as a symbol of both strength and gentleness, something I saw Mr. Armstrong as.

I barely registered Grandma and the other women coming into the backyard with Mr. Armstrong and me. I didn't see the new addition to the group of an older man with a very impressive beard waxed into position.

I was focused on my statue and I pressed my hand to the transmutation circle, focusing on what I wanted to show the kind man. Because my transmutation was 'bulkier', it would also be smaller in terms of height.

Transmutation energy crackled as I focused on a lion bound by rope as a mouse chewed at the bindings.

It came together beautifully and I looked at Mr. Armstrong with a smile. He looked impressed even with my flaws visible and came closer. "I know this story," he mused. "It's a very old one." I smiled in return.

"It's kind of fitting, don't you think?" He gave me a curious look. "Well, we can all be the lion, who lets the mouse live another day not believing to be repaid for the kindness… or we can be the mouse, who returns kindness as it was given to him. It doesn't matter how strong you are or how powerless you seem… We can all make a difference even if we don't think the tiny things will amount to anything." He was visibly surprised by this.

"Yes, I suppose so." He looked at the statue before kneeling down near me. "Would you like some help refining your technique? Perhaps one day you'll become the next Strongarm." I smiled at him.

"I don't want to be a State Alchemist," I told him. "I want to be an alchemist who is a veterinarian, too. I want to redesign all the zoos and make them better for animals all over Amestris, maybe even the world." He gave me an interested look.

"That sounds like a very worthy task. Would you like to learn?" I nodded eagerly, glad I was helping him even as he helped me.

When we finally had to go, I knew I'd not healed Mr. Armstrong… but I had helped him get a little better and I think his family appreciated that greatly. My grandmother certainly seemed proud of me even as an invitation was extended towards us to return.

.

What little rumors I heard out of Ishval weren't great. In fact, it sounded like a bloodbath. I heard about the leader of the Ishvalans being executed along with his people on order of the Fuhrer and I knew my Uncle Maes had been there because he'd mentioned it in a letter. I heard about some attacks on a hospital, and I heard Dad was taken away from the direct fighting for a period though he refused to explain what he was doing. All Miss Hawkeye would say about it was that she knew he seemed more stressed than ever, which was very bad.

Amid the various letters, I knew that Uncle Maes had been elevated several ranks. I guessed that, from the death tolls, they were trying to plug up the holes of command and Uncle Maes was one of those picked. It didn't mean he was necessarily safer but, instead, more competent than the next guy. Miss Hawkeye spoke of promotion as well due to her achievements despite being technically just from the Academy. She still hadn't told me what she did even though Dad did. He said she was really good at long-range shooting. I guessed that meant she was a sniper, which possibly meant she had a larger kill-count than others because snipers usually had to be both remote and intimate with their kills thanks to high-powered rifles equipped with high-powered scopes. Dad hadn't been promoted yet, though.

I wrote the three of them about the trip to see Mr. Armstrong. Uncle Maes had been grateful in his response and Dad proud that I'd gone to help another. Miss Hawkeye seemed impressed that I'd do it, having not learned enough of my character though letters.

I also incidentally learned that Uncle Maes was still seeing Miss Harlow and that it was serious enough that he hoped she was still waiting for him when he returned from war. He also said his glasses had been cracked and that the line across his vision was annoying.

Everything was muddled, though. All of what I heard came through news sources, disjointed letters that aimed at keeping me pure, and my own guesswork. I had no concrete timeline of what was going on out there. I only knew that I kept getting letters from the three that mattered to me. With Mr. Armstrong safe (and that invitation in the works to be honored fairly soon again), I had one less person to worry about on the physical side of things.

The mental, though, I knew no one was safe… especially myself considering how much I worried. I knew others worried, too, but I felt like I had more at stake than anyone else. Logically, I knew I was being foolish. My heart, however, basically ignored my logic.

Still, I persisted at school (one scolding from my father kind of encouraged that considering my grandmother wrote a letter to him about how my grades were suffering) and did what I was supposed to.

I just wondered when it would all be done.

.

I wondered when this insanity would end. That was mostly because I wasn't sure if I was correctly interpreting the situation I was in. Visual stated, yes, there was the big man that had apparently become fond of me holding a delicate pink and white teacup with his pinky (that was bigger than my thumb) extended. The other hand held a matching saucer. I had my own teacup and saucer, the two of us taking a break from one of his more enthusiastic lessons on alchemy, and I could feel the heat of the liquid radiating from the fine china. There were even various pastries to go along with the tea, provided by the maids just five or so minutes ago.

The most ludicrous part in all of this was that we were sitting at a nice little table covered with a lacy tablecloth in Mr. Armstrong's personal study. It wasn't a very small room but I could estimate the size was relatively small for the building it was in and only one wall was covered with bookshelves. The other housed a large fireplace. We were sitting near the window, the afternoon sunlight pouring in.

And I was having a tea party with a giant even as he chattered cheerily enough with me. Or, maybe more accurately, _at_ me.

It was very surreal.

I'd returned to the Armstrong Estate with my grandmother though she was off with the ladies doing something ladylike or so my guess was. She did tell me that if I didn't want to be around Mr. Armstrong anymore, all I had to do was come back to her. Mr. Armstrong, however, was a bit frightening and not in the way most would think of it. He was charismatic, loud, and there were a few times his voice had shaken the window panes. I was a very small girl not used to such eccentrics. I felt like Alice and I suppose he could have been considered the Mad Hatter in this scenario.

"Are you alright, my dear?" he asked. I shook myself from my thoughts, looking at his concerned face.

"I'm fine, Mr. Armstrong," I replied. "I was just… I was thinking this was a very strange sort of thing."

"What was?" he asked, a little confused. I lifted my cup with a sardonic little half-smile.

"We're having a tea party."

"I fail to understand," he mused. I knew I was probably going to come off sounding either cute or insulting with my response.

"Little girls have tea parties, I guess. I've not really had any before…" It was a bit of a hedge-about, but I went on. "But you're not exactly what people think of when they imagine people sitting down for a tea party. You even stick your pinky out." He paused, looking at his teacup and the way he held it. It was small enough he could cup it easily in the palm of one hand. Then he looked at me.

"I suppose you're right. Does it upset you?" I shook my head, my braid falling over my shoulder.

"No, sir. It's just kind of funny." He smiled behind his mustache and nodded. "Daddy told me to always be unexpected. He always liked it a lot when I didn't do some things exactly how he expected me to," I confided. "You keep doing unexpected things, too, okay?"

"Sounds like a splendid idea to me, Miss Dawn," he said with a kind smile. I grinned back.

The door opened and in strode a woman I'd not seen before. Her gaze was hard, she was beautiful, and she was clearly an Armstrong. This was confirmed when Mr. Armstrong sputtered out a 'Sister!' in his surprise as she scowled at him.

"So it's true," she sniffed. "You were sent home dishonorably, shaming the family." I was taken aback even as the kind man flinched at her hard words.

"Yes, I…"

"He didn't do anything wrong!" I chipped in, drawing attention to me. My eyes were narrowed at the woman as I put the cup down. Both adults were looking at me. "And you're being rude! Barging in and being mean for no good reason! If I did that, I'd have gotten spanked! Go back out and start again!"

I don't know what got into me, but the imperious finger I pointed at the door had the woman and Mr. Armstrong staring at me in incredulity. The woman sneered finally. "Who is this _child?_ " she asked of her brother.

"Sister…"

-/-/-/-

Thanks for reading. **Please review.**


	12. In Which He Returns Different

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This is touching on a very sensitive subject more so than the last chapter. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is something I find both a fascinating and horrifically upsetting subject. I have met those that have seen combat. I've met those who have done things that have haunted them and will continue to haunt them for the rest of their lives.

Also, I'll admit to not having had the gumption to update due to fun life stuff. Nothing bad but very occupying. I had forgotten how many reviews I'd gotten for this chapter alone, so imagine my surprise when I went back to read some of them and saw I had two pages worth.

And… some important people are turning up in this chapter.

 _ **Happy Birthday, Marines! Semper Fi!**_

(Even if I write that on November 9th.)

-/-/-/-

Chapter 12: In Which He Returns Different

.

I sneered at the woman, irritated by her attitude. "I'm Dawn Mustang!" I told her flatly.

"Mustang, eh?" she smirked, amused by the fact I'd cut her brother off. Oh, I was going to be in trouble later. "And why is my little brother here with you?"

" _We're_ having a tea party!" She snorted. "Who are you?"

"Audacious little brat, aren't you?" She actually sounded amused by that. "I'm Olivier Armstrong, a Brigadier General."

"Now, Sister," cautioned Mr. Armstrong. "She's only seven."

"She's got more nerve than most," she waved him off, gaze still directly on me. "And why is a little girl with my brother?" she asked of me. "Other than a tea party."

"He was giving me pointers on alchemy!" I said, straightening up. Her gaze grew a bit interested in that. "Daddy said it was alright if I learned from him. He knows Mr. Armstrong by reputation and said that if I wanted to be really good at shaping minerals and the like, I should listen to him!"

"And your father is?"

"Roy Mustang!"

"He's the Flame Alchemist, Sister," added Mr. Armstrong.

"Really? That upstart?" she smirked. I glared.

"Go suck a lemon," I snapped. Her eyes widened at my rude remark. "You've got no idea how hard my father's worked for everything he's got! Especially because everything's been twice as hard because of _me_! I bet if you go tell my grandmother that, she'd chew you out, too!"

"Why on earth would I go to his _mother_?" she sneered, though her eyes didn't match her face. "Of course she'd defend him." I growled at her.

"You know what, lady? You're spoiled rotten!" I heard a sharp intake of breath from Mr. Armstrong and I knew I was crossing a number of lines. The woman before me was hard-eyed, too. No one had ever likely called her a spoiled brat before. "My grandma isn't his mom! His mom's dead! His dad's dead! My grandma is my mom's mom! And you don't even know anything about him! When he was fifteen, he made a mistake and instead of ignoring it, he owned up to it! That mistake was getting a girl pregnant! And he's paid and fought for everything he's ever achieved ever since! Everything he's ever gotten was through hard work, unlike _you_!" I was heaving breaths from all the vitriol I put in that and the silence allowed that panting to be heard. My nails were biting into the palms of my hands and were starting to hurt.

The look of utter incredulity and shock on Olivier Armstrong's face was worth every word.

"As for your brother," I added hotly, all too aware of the maturity I was displaying despite being seven. I was delivering this lecture in a child's voice, so it probably didn't have the same effect. "I bet you do love him, which is why you're here and not ignoring him, but not everyone can be a good soldier. It's not a _failing_."

"You are not an ordinary little girl," she said slowly. I squashed the urge to snort. "And you're also a very rude little girl."

"What on earth is going on in here?" The other ladies were now present and I felt a flush creep up my neck as my grandmother's eyes fell on me. "We heard shouting down the hall," Mrs. Emelia added.

"It's nothing of consequence," Mr. Armstrong hastily stepped in. Olivier hadn't stopped looking at me, though. "Though I think that perhaps Miss Dawn is ready to leave?" He probably didn't want a knock-down drag-out fight between me and his older sister. I was fairly certain who would win such an altercation, though. Not me.

Despite this, I found my way momentarily blocked by the female General.

"Do you have a wish to follow in your father's footsteps?" she asked, obviously curious.

"No," I told her honestly, looking up. "I'm planning on being a veterinarian and a zoo designer." She clearly mulled this over before stepping aside. I went to my grandmother and found myself firmly sent from the estate with my grandmother wishing the Armstrongs a good evening.

"What happened?" she demanded of me. She also probably figured I'd give her an honest answer.

"Brigadier General Armstrong is kind of mean," I answered honestly. "She came in trying to bully Mr. Armstrong and I got mad." Her eyes got hard. "I told her she was spoiled when she said Dad was an upstart."

"You don't say things like that, Dawn," she said warningly.

"Well, it's true! Dad lived in an _attic_ up until we pretty much moved in with you. And he's doing everything he can to make our lives good. She's here in Central while he's off at _war_. She wanted to be mean to her brother because he couldn't take the fighting and the killing. She was being _mean_ for _no good reason_."

"You don't know everything, Dawn," she scolded. "Perhaps there is more to it than you think." I was getting a dressing down because I'd defended someone and I wasn't happy about it. "You will get that look off your face right now, Dawn Rose, or else I'll slap it off." That pulled me up short and I flinched back a bit. "That's better," Grandma said coolly. "You need to _behave_ , child. Not give everyone a reason to think _you're_ the spoiled one."

"I'm not spoiled," I protested.

"Oh, yes, you are," she disagreed. I was taken aback by that and she gave me a long look. "You've gotten nearly everything you've ever wanted, Dawn. That means you expect certain things out of life and that means that you're spoiled."

I'd never thought of it that way before and I wasn't sure I liked being called spoiled at all. I was taken back to Grandma's house, of course, and found Grandpa waiting.

"Well?" he asked.

"Your granddaughter just managed to insult a high-level military officer by calling her spoiled," Grandma told her husband. That visibly shocked Grandpa and I tried to scoot away, properly shamed at this point.

"Wait, what? Is this true, Dawnie?" he asked of me. I tried to escape but Grandma's hand stopped me.

"Yes, sir," I mumbled, staring at my toes. "But she was being mean for no good reason and Mr. Armstrong looked upset when she started being mean to him. He's kind of my friend even if he is an adult…" Most of this was said to my shoes more than to my grandfather, but they did hear what I had to say.

"It's good that you want to defend your friends, Dawn," Grandpa said, crouching down before me and forcing me to look up. "But at the same time, I think your grandma has a right to be upset. You weren't raised to be unnecessarily rude to others. Especially as this military officer…" He frowned slightly before looking up at his wife. "Who was it?"

"The Armstrongs' eldest daughter, Olivier," she told him. His eyes widened and then he looked at me.

"You told the _first_ woman General of _Amestris_ that she's _spoiled_?" he asked in shock.

"She did," Grandma confirmed.

"I certainly hope she forgives you for that and doesn't take it out on your father, Dawn," he said in concern. I paled at his words. "She's worked hard to be where she is, family heritage aside. She's essentially married to the military to keep her position unchallenged." I swallowed nervously. "I also highly suggest if there's another visit to the Armstrong residence or if you manage to meet her, apologize. It might not do much good, but it can't hurt."

"Yes, sir." He stood back up properly and looked to his wife wearily.

"So, you'll be off to East City again tomorrow?"

"Yes," she told him. "I'm sorry, Barty. This is as hard on us as it is on you." He shook his head and hugged her. I felt ashamed of myself that I just quietly watched the affection without wanting to have some for myself. I was too consumed with the thoughts of what I might have done to upset my father's attempts to make our lives better.

I sincerely hoped that Armstrong was one of those that forgave others. Unfortunately, if she was as much of a ball-buster hard-ass that Grandpa hinted at, she might not be.

.

The Ishvalan War ended, thankfully. Just as thankfully, my father hadn't died. I'd hoped he wouldn't. I'd guessed he wouldn't… But guessing and hoping wasn't the same as knowing. I'd changed his life irrevocably by coming into it, so clearly I could make things go _wrong_ , too.

Grandma, Grandpa, and I waited for Dad at the station in Central as there were supposed to be ceremonies of various sorts to award honors for the heroics of their people. I knew the people who came back wouldn't care too much about honors. They would be glad to be home and feel alien at the same time.

It was only a short period of time since the State Alchemists had first been sent, honestly, and it was summer now. I was eight, my father having missed a birthday. Not that we really celebrated, to be honest. Dad wasn't there, so I hadn't been that enthused about it.

I watched as troops exited the train that had just pulled in and I saw the tiredness and elation in odd combination. I saw how they looked around as though disbelieving what they were seeing. I saw haunted faces. I saw victims of war.

So preoccupied with my observation of these details, I was surprised when I heard a shout. "Dawn!" I looked up to see Uncle Maes there, smiling widely. I grinned widely in return only to find myself caught up in a hug. It was not, however, from Uncle Maes. I gripped my father close, smelling him more than seeing him, and his embrace was tight. I could feel the pain in him, the relief at seeing me, and knew he was hurt just as much as any other.

"Xiao-Hua," he murmured in my ear.

"Welcome home," I told him, eyes burning. "Welcome home, Daddy." His grip relaxed and he pulled back a little to smile at me properly. His eyes were haunted. He looked a bit like a raccoon with those dark circles under his eyes. He was changed. But there was hope there at seeing me. "I'm eight," I offered, hoping to bridge the gap with some kind of kindness.

"I know. You've gotten taller, too," he smiled. "Did you have a good party?" I'd not really told him about the events in my letter, choosing to instead simply say there'd been cake and presents which had been true.

"We didn't have a party," Grandma told him. "She insisted." Dad looked a bit surprised.

"Why not?" he asked of me.

"You weren't there." The admission seemed to startle him then it became obvious that he realized it wasn't unexpected, either. "We still had cake and presents," I added. "But just us three." I heard Uncle Maes talking to someone before excusing himself and I saw Dad's face shift. "Are you alright?" His expression shifted again and he offered me a smile.

"Would you like to meet Miss Hawkeye?" he asked of me. I blinked and then peeked over his shoulder to see a pretty blonde woman there looking a bit nervously at the four of us. He glanced at my grandparents as he straightened up. "If it hadn't have been for her skills, I might not have made it back," he admitted before turning to her. I was busy observing her as she stepped forward.

Riza Hawkeye was beautiful but in a different way than the photographs I'd seen of my mother. She was blonde where my mother had been brunette, had classic features of an Amestrian woman, and brown eyes that seemed as haunted as my father's. Her smile was a bit wan as Dad gestured her closer, showing obvious shyness. I could see how my father had fallen for her. She was slightly shorter than he was once she came a little closer and clearly well-endowed even through the uniform. "This is Riza Hawkeye," he told us formally. "She's a… recently graduated cadet from the Academy and now elevated to the rank of Sergeant Major thanks to the losses during the war." He then gestured to us. "This is my daughter, Dawn, and her grandparents, Bartholomew and Sarah Edgecombe."

"Call me Barty, Miss Hawkeye," Grandpa smiled, offering a hand. The woman took it, shaking it with her own smile.

"It's good to meet you," Grandma added though a glance at her told me she was a bit strained at that moment. I looked to Miss Hawkeye myself and considered her before offering a different greeting.

"Thank you for Snow."

"You're welcome," Miss Hawkeye replied. "I am glad you liked her."

"Last I checked, she sleeps with all three of her horse toys," Dad told her. "It's definitely enjoyed." I smiled at the words. "Where did Hughes go?"

"He said he saw his girlfriend." Dad blinked before shaking his head with a sigh. "I thought it was sweet."

"No, just… The first time I heard about her, I nearly got stabbed," he grumbled before his eyes widened and he looked to us. Well, he looked at _me_ more specifically and saw how I stared at him in mute horror.

"This is not the place to have such conversations," Grandma said firmly. "Do you have anywhere to be now that you're in Central?"

"Not really," Dad told her. "The awards ceremony for the State Alchemists is to be held tomorrow." He glanced towards Miss Hawkeye.

"I will be returning to the Academy myself," she responded to his unasked question. "I believe I'll be… posted somewhere soon." He frowned slightly but nodded.

"Take care, then," he offered. She smiled and then turned away, vanishing into the crowd. I looked up at him in confusion.

"I thought you liked her." He looked down at me with a wry twist to his lips before looking at my grandparents.

"I do."

"So, why didn't you say something?"

"Like?"

"That is also not a conversation to be had here on the platform," Grandma interceded. "Come on, Roy. Let's go back to the house."

"Alright." He found himself being hugged by her a moment later.

"I'm so glad you came back," she murmured.

"Me, too, Sarah," he replied.

.

Dad's award ceremony was honestly a yawn. I literally yawned through ninety percent of it. The only times I didn't was when he was on stage receiving his honors from the Fuhrer, I was caught up in a bear hug by my Uncle Maes, I got to see Miss Harlow again, and when Dad finally came back over to us.

Last night, though, had been hard. I'd insisted on sleeping with him in the same bed, mostly because I'd missed him, but I learned quickly that he had nightmares. He also talked in his sleep. Most of it consisted of incomprehensible mutters, but he thrashed and fought until I just slipped out of bed and sat on the floor to listen.

What I heard, I decided I didn't like. What I heard told me that he'd done horrible things out in the desert and he was very nearly broken because of it. What I heard… made me hate the Fuhrer for making him go out there.

I had fallen asleep on the rug only to be woken up by Dad stepping on me when he'd woken up in the morning. He'd been horrified that he'd run me out of the bed, of course, and had apologized while he fussed over me.

"I can see your tonsils," Dad drolly advised as I failed to keep myself from yawning yet again. I could see the upset in his gaze, though. I could see he was guilty by the set of his eyes.

"M' fine," I mumbled, holding his hand as I scrubbed at an eye while looking up at him. He had been promoted for his exemplary service to a Lieutenant Colonel. Apparently, he had skipped the whole full-Major level of the military. I was proud of him. I was also dead on my feet.

I yawned again, covering my mouth.

"Why are you so sleepy today?" Grandma asked, honestly baffled. Dad hadn't admitted what had happened last night to her or Grandpa. I hadn't either. "I know you went to bed on time."

"I don't know," I said absently as we walked away from the military parade grounds. There would be other ceremonies, other promotions, and I knew that one of them was supposed to include Uncle Maes. I knew Dad wanted to go see it, too, to support his friend. The mass promotions would be more like a list of names read out and 'hey, you got promoted' sort of thing. They'd done that during this ceremony, naturally, but only for a smaller grouping as the State Alchemists were being lauded as heroes.

"I had bad dreams, unfortunately," Dad admitted. "I think I kept her awake."

"It's alright," I muttered, tightening my grip on his hand.

"Perhaps it would be better if you two slept separate tonight, then," Grandpa offered. I didn't think so. I sulked, looking at him in betrayal. "It was an idea, Dawn," he told me. "I'm sure you don't want to be groggy every day, do you?"

No one asked him what the bad dreams were about, though. Dad, of course, turned the conversation away from my sleeping arrangements (seeing it was honestly upsetting me) to when he would have to return to East City where he was still assigned.

"Now that you have more rank, what will happen?" Grandma asked curiously.

"I'm not entirely sure," Dad replied as we went into the house. "I do know there will be more responsibilities, though. Perhaps I'll even be required to have my own staff." Grandpa's eyebrows hiked up.

"Your own staff?"

"I know that most Lieutenant Colonels have their own staff. And they do a good deal more paperwork."

"And get a bigger stipend?" Grandpa asked.

"Barty," scolded Grandma, lightly popping him on the chest. "What will this do to your hours?"

"Again, I'm uncertain, but at least Dawn's old enough now that I feel a bit more comfortable with her self-reliance. Not entirely, of course, but…" He shrugged, looking down at me. There was something else there in his eyes. Something I could just barely see. The haunted look hadn't faded again just yet, but Dad seemed to have something else inside him. It was something that seemed to make him stronger somehow.

I didn't know what and I knew I couldn't ask him to tell me even if I wanted him to.

.

We returned to East City and, yes, it was good to be home again with Dad. My father had also been labeled a war hero, so I had gained popularity in school because of that. Everyone knew of the Flame Alchemist now and everyone at school knew _I_ was his daughter.

I hated it.

"I understand," Dad told me when I told him this one evening after a week of questions about him from overly curious students.

"You're not mad?" I asked warily. He smiled, ruffling my hair.

"No. I don't like being called a hero of war and I think you know that." I swallowed and then nodded.

"You just look… unhappy when someone says 'Hero of Ishval'." His smile turned sad.

"Xiao-Hua," he began. "I'm sorry you've had to deal with my terrible dreams. I'm sorry you've had to deal with the things that I've brought back from war." I looked up at him, gaze pained, and he reached to me and drew me into his side. "I promise that I'll do whatever I can… to become better. So you don't have to worry about me."

"But Dad," I replied before faltering. "You're my _dad_." I didn't know how better to explain it with the confusion I felt from the child emotions I had. "We're supposed to be a team." He hugged me, pressing a kiss to my hair.

"Yeah," he murmured. "We are."

.

Dad gained the staff he had spoken of. Apparently, he had the ability to choose, the Lieutenant General overseeing the Eastern Command permitting him to choose whoever he wanted. Dad picked several people, most of them men. The one woman he picked happened to be his not-really-girlfriend.

My father was a moron.

I didn't immediately meet these people he'd picked other than Miss Hawkeye, who happened to be promoted to a Second Lieutenant during the shuffle-about of people that had returned from war. I only met Miss Hawkeye again because, surprise, she wanted to see me again. And she got to when Dad was forced to do something else from some Colonel. I, on the other hand, was aware that there were things needed for the house and abused my new babysitter by asking if we could get shopping done for dinner tonight so I could surprise my father.

She took it hook, line, and sinker. Miss Hawkeye was mine.

"You're very serious about those tomatoes," she mused as I examined my options that I could reach.

"Tomatoes are serious business, Miss Hawkeye," I returned with a smile. She smiled as well, clearly amused. Picking out the 'best', we went on and talked. "Why did you join the military?" I asked, curious. I knew it was probably personal, but I had to ask. Her smile faded at my question and I felt a touch bad about asking. At least she still answered me.

"After my father died, I was pretty much without money or future," she admitted. I considered that, allowing her a moment to continue. "Your father, the Lieutenant Colonel, offered the path of the military as an option."

"And you joined?" She nodded.

"After a month or two, yes." I considered the cabbage before us now, trying to organize my thoughts.

"What happened out there, Miss Hawkeye?" I asked carefully. I looked up at her, watching her expression morph into pain overlaid with sternness.

"I'm not going to tell you," she said firmly. "Your father would be very upset with me if I did."

"But… you're hurt. Like he is. Or not like he is… but similar," I hedged, hating how she grew more distant with each word. "And… why did he hire you as his help? Why… did he do that when…" I faltered again before adding quietly, "If you'd not… Maybe…"

"If I hadn't have what?" she asked carefully. I looked away from her, not happy about my selfishness but unwilling to push the thought entirely away.

"He talked real nice about you, Miss Hawkeye," I admitted, not looking up. "I hoped maybe…" I swallowed my words painfully. "Never mind," I said aloud. "I need a cabbage. Which one looks good?"

Miss Hawkeye was more reserved and quiet after my questioning and I remained politely distant as well. She wasn't my mother. Not so long as she worked for Dad.

It was a desire I hadn't known was possible. I wanted a mom. My mother was dead and I wanted a mom now that I was getting older. I also didn't like Dad being alone. Maybe he'd find someone else. Maybe not…

Unfortunately, I was dealing with a whole country full of stubborn people and one of the most stubborn of _all_ was related to _me_.

Still, the shopping was done, I was soon free of the suddenly silent woman, and my father was going to soon be home. I figured she wanted to avoid him since I'd asked those questions.

I was pretty much left alone to put away groceries.

.

When Dad came home, he seemed honestly surprised I'd been left on my own despite the fact Mrs. Liu was still next door. "Xiao-Hua? Where's the Second Lieutenant?" Now, wasn't that interesting? He called her by _her_ title and she called him by _his_ title. I wondered if it meant more than simple respect.

"Miss Hawkeye went home," I told him, more intent on prepping dinner and my own thoughts than I was on his words.

"Why did she go home?" he pressed, booted feet clunking on the floorboards.

"I don't know," I replied honestly. I didn't actually know. The woman had clammed up tighter than… well, a clam. She refused to speak about anything after my half-given thoughts of what I'd hoped of the future. She didn't want to talk about Ishval even in the most oblique of ways. I understood the 'why'. I had found it annoying, though.

"And why are you using knives without adult supervision?" he asked of me.

"I was hoping to make you dinner." I looked up. "I can cook."

"I know you can, Dawn," he sighed. "Still, I would _prefer_ if I was around to watch after you." Yet his hours at work had begun to run a little longer than they had before. He wasn't around as much anymore. It was hard to swallow, but that was why I was trying to do more. That way, he wouldn't have to worry so much.

And yet I managed to start creating more worries. He let the matter lie for now, choosing to assist me with dinner. It was a relatively quiet evening… until I decided to ask questions again.

"Why did you call her Second Lieutenant?" He blinked at me.

"That's her rank," he replied, lowering his fork. I considered that before pressing forward.

"But she also calls you by rank," I noted.

"Yes," he drawled a bit leadingly and warily.

"But I thought you two liked each other." He looked at me for a long moment before sighing.

"We do," he told me. "But we can't like each other more than what is permitted by the military right now because we're both _in_ the military." I frowned.

"But…" I left it hanging, something fundamentally wrong about that to me.

"I call her 'Second Lieutenant' because that is who she is as much as Riza Hawkeye. She calls me 'Lieutenant Colonel' because I'm as much that as I am Roy Mustang. We're trying to keep ourselves professional for the sake of the military, mostly because we want to be above reproach when being viewed by others."

"I don't get why," I complained. He eyed me for a very long moment before speaking once more.

"Dawn, I have a plan for the future." I blinked. "And I need all the help I can get."

"What do you mean?"

"There were a lot of bad things that happened in Ishval. Things that… good people would be horrified by."

"Are you horrified?" I asked cautiously. He nodded, gaze darkening once more.

"Yes," Dad vocally affirmed. "But what happened out there wasn't a war. It was a massacre. We soldiers were used to hurt people who only wished to defend their home. There were many who were women and children." I drew a sharp breath, my eyes wide. "Yes, Dawn. I killed children out there."

"No…"

"I did." I cringed down in my seat, my meal suddenly not very appetizing anymore. "I did many horrible things out there and that was one of them. I've taken a vow to keep from doing something like that again."

"What do you mean?" I asked quietly, plaintively.

"I have a vision for the future," he told me. "And it's a dangerous vision. One which could have me executed for treason if it gets out." I stared. "Do you know what that means?"

"You'd go against the country?" I asked, baffled. He sighed.

"Not exactly. What I want to do is better the country. But, in order to do that, I have to attain a certain rank."

"What rank is that?" I asked.

"Fuhrer." My jaw dropped. "Close your mouth, Xiao-Hua," he chided. "That's unladylike." My mouth snapped shut before I leaned forward.

"You mean you want to take over the country?" He nodded. "Was Ishval that bad?" He nodded again, the shadows in his eyes showing stronger. "And you… are having Miss Hawkeye help you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't want another Flame Alchemist." I frowned.

"What?" That didn't make sense.

"I used the gift she gave me to kill innocent people," Dad told me. "And she doesn't want to think of what kind of person I could become if I lost my sense and decided to use my alchemy like the Crimson Lotus."

"Who?"

"You remember Mr. Kimblee, right?" I blinked and then shivered upon placing the name. "You were right to be wary," he told me. "He enjoyed the war… and turned on his superior officers afterwards, killing them. The Lieutenant does not wish for me to become the same."

"But… you wouldn't," I protested. Yet he'd killed children in Ishval. I shivered again.

"She doesn't know that. So I've asked her to watch over me, to watch my back… and to keep me on the straight and narrow."

"What does that mean?" He smiled bitterly.

"I want to become the Fuhrer, Xiao-Hua," he told me. "This is a dangerous dream. One that could have me executed as a traitor." I nodded slowly, having gotten that point. "Right now, you're the fourth person to know of such a dream after myself, Hughes, and the Lieutenant." My eyes widened. "As such, you cannot tell _anyone_ about it. You shouldn't even talk to those that do know."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't know who else might be listening." I nodded slowly. "As such, I wish to have your support, too."

"What can I do? I'm just a kid."

"But you're my kid," he reminded with a wry little smirk. "That's powerful in and of itself." I nodded slowly. "I don't want Amestris to do something like Ishval again. I don't know why things got so out of hand, but they did. And I plan on helping protect everyone in this country as best as I can."

I nodded slowly. "Like you protect me," I noted.

"Like I protect you," he agreed. "Now, eat your dinner and get washed up. You do have school in the morning."

.

Time passed like it always does and soon Dad's birthday came. He was now twenty-four and still no sign of him settling down with a lady. The one lady he liked was now as about as attainable as the moon.

"I don't know why we came to meet here," complained a red-haired heavyset man as Dad nudged me through the doorway of the restaurant he was going to be celebrating his birthday at. "It doesn't even have alcohol." There was a small group ahead of us that seemed to consist of four men and Miss Hawkeye though she wasn't looking anywhere at us at that particular moment.

"Mostly because it has good food and Dawn requested it," Dad said from behind him. I realized quickly that these had to be his men as they turned.

"Really?" a blonde man asked, cigarette bobbing between his teeth. "Who's Dawn? Your girlfriend?" And then they all saw me and I got to look at them. The blonde man that had spoken looked kind of like a Golden Retriever though his eyes were blue instead of brown. He looked like some sad-eyed dog to me, honestly. The heavyset red-headed man had a short beard and curious brown eyes and a generally friendly air about him. The friendliest looking one was also probably the youngest. He had dark brown hair and big brown eyes only enhanced by his glasses. The last one was sort of narrow-looking and severe with gray hair, obviously the oldest of the group.

I knew what they saw when they saw me, too. A little brunette girl with gray-brown eyes that obviously shared features with their commanding officer. Not that any of them wore their uniforms. Their surprise was visible, of course.

"Actually, no. Dawn is the Lieutenant Colonel's daughter," Miss Hawkeye replied dryly. "Good choice, though, Dawn," she informed me. "I like this restaurant, too."

Whatever long and uncomfortable pause that might have ensued right then was cut short when a hostess appeared and asked us to follow her to our table. We were seated and given menus, though I was pretty certain Dad would have a final say over whatever I ate even if I was old enough to pick something out for myself. Not that I intended to only eat dessert, of course, but still.

"Dawn, these are my subordinates. This is Warrant Officer Jean Havoc, Corporal Kain Fuery, Sergeant Major Vato Falman, and Warrant Officer Heymans Breda. Everyone, this is Dawn Mustang, my daughter."

Apparently that was about the moment that someone's brain reengaged because Mr. Breda sputtered notably. "You didn't tell us you had a kid!" he protested.

"Does it make a difference?" Dad countered.

"Well…"

"Not really," Mr. Fuery said, smiling a bit. I grinned a little at his kindness though I was still very nervous about all these new people. "Nice to meet you, Miss Dawn." His words brought about a number of greetings, too, before Mr. Havoc spoke up along a different track of conversation.

"So, how old are you, Dawn?"

"Eight," I replied honestly. He blinked and then looked at Dad.

"Your math works out correctly, Havoc," he replied to the unasked question.

"Sixteen," mused Mr. Falman. "That's fairly young."

"I'm aware." The drollness of his words seemed to censure more words in that direction only for us to work out what we were going to eat. Of course, Dad did have a thought as to what I should eat and, as I wasn't against it, I went along with his suggestion. It wasn't that he thought I couldn't think for myself. After all, he was allowing me more liberties with alchemy even though I was still very limited in what I could actually do. Yes, my detail work was greater and I was starting to construct models of the animals I wanted to heal when I grew up, but I was still 'slow' and sometimes chose to work piecemeal in order to do great detail.

When the orders were placed, I naturally chose to pay more attention to the adult conversations. Miss Hawkeye didn't sit next to me, leaving me with Mr. Breda on the side that didn't have Dad. He seemed nice enough, though. "So, what's your favorite subject in school?" he asked of me. It was one of those standard kid-friendly questions, naturally.

"Science," I offered. "Though it's kind of boring."

"You like science but it is boring?" he asked, amused.

"I study alchemy at home with Dad," I admitted, looking at the glass of water put before me. That earned a couple of sidelong looks. "So… even if it's my favorite, I'm ahead of the class." My seriousness must have been kind of funny because there was a distinctly amused look from Miss Hawkeye. "I guess my favorite class isn't science, though. I like history because I don't know more than anyone else in that class."

"So, any great stories about your dad?" Mr. Havoc asked tauntingly, grinning at my father. Dad frowned at him even as I shrugged.

"I guess?" I hedged, glancing at my father.

"He wants you to tell him some kind of story that makes me look bad," Dad told me while looking at the blonde man. "I'd rather you didn't."

"I don't really have stories like that, though," I told him, confused. Most of that stuff was incidental and, while amusing, wasn't something I cared to share anyway. When Dad was ridiculous, it was during family stuff. Family stuff was treasured and private. That actually encouraged a look of surprise at me, though, before he smiled.

"Tch. You're no fun, kid," Mr. Havoc jibed but not in a cruel way. Or, at least, I didn't take it as cruel though I frowned at him.

"Let's stop needling my daughter about my shortcomings, yes?" Dad growled at the man. Mr. Havoc clearly backed off, grinning and holding up his hands.

"Yes, sir!"

The rest of the dinner was pretty good and there was even permission to have dessert. I got to talk with my father's subordinates more and learned that they were generally nice people. Mr. Havoc shared stories about himself, cheerily smoking while talking without self-consciousness about some of his mishaps in life. Mr. Breda also spoke up though he talked more about chess only to find out Dad never played (simply because he'd not had the time) when he asked if I knew how to play. He resolved to teach Dad as sort of a present for his birthday and Dad, being generally interested in learning, amicably agreed.

I decided I liked these people though they were all very old compared to my current age. Not like Dad, though, but its seemed to me that only two of the people at the table were older than Dad: Mr. Breda and Mr. Falman. Everyone else seemed to be otherwise younger. Surprisingly, Mr. Falman said he had a family, too.

"Don't tell me you have a family, too, Breda," complained Mr. Havoc after Mr. Falman had described his family a little. Mr. Breda smirked a bit.

"No."

"I'm surprised you didn't invite them along," Dad mused to his gray-haired subordinate. Mr. Falman gave a bit of a sad smile back.

"I'm unfortunately divorced, sir, and live in an entirely different city." Dad winced, realizing the tenderness of the subject, but Mr. Falman didn't look too offended.

"Where is Dawn's mom, anyway?" asked Mr. Fuery curiously trying to divert the conversation. Dad's expression twisted further, glancing to me worriedly. Mr. Fuery obviously got the hint. "Oh… I'm sorry." I looked down at my plate, feet no longer kicking down below.

"It's alright," Dad dismissed as the others realized what was going on. Even Miss Hawkeye looked a little strained. "Dawn's mother passed when Dawn was born." A flicker of shame went through me at that. It wasn't unusual to feel a bit guilty over the death of my mother because I _had_ caused it. Technically, Dad caused it, too, but I _was_ the deciding factor. As I got older and grew to understand that fact despite knowing it for years, my shame grew larger. That feeling of mine was obviously visible because Dad shot me a knowing look before going on. "It's been a long while."

"So, you raised her by yourself?"

"No. Her mother's parents are still around and love looking after her when they can."

"Where are they?"

"Central." They talked further and Mr. Falman went into talking about his two children, both of whom were already teenagers and doing their own thing for the most part. Apparently there was enough of an age gap that no one offered for us to meet up. Mr. Havoc talked about a girlfriend he had, proud of the fact he had been dating her for a month. I found that a little pathetic, honestly, but didn't say anything at all. When asked about what family he had, Mr. Fuery talked about his younger brothers and his mother before admitting he didn't have a significant other. Breda had a similar story, citing that he just didn't have the time at the moment. Miss Hawkeye said she wasn't seeing anyone and, when probed about family, said she didn't have any that she knew of. I frowned a bit at that and decided, despite the fact she was somewhat avoiding me, that I was going to remedy that. If she couldn't be my stepmom, then maybe she could be something else related to my family.

People needed family. This was a simple fact. And Miss Hawkeye was going to get some family whether or not she wanted to.

.

"Dad!" He jumped as I sprang behind him, impulsively bouncing on the floorboards. Turning to me, he gave me an incredulous look, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

"What?" he asked around said toothbrush.

"Miss Hawkeye doesn't have family," I told him, grinning brightly. His expression darkened a bit again.

"Xiao-Hua," Dad said warningly as he pulled the toothbrush free before spitting the used toothpaste out. He wiped his mouth and started again. "Xiao-Hua, you know I can't be with her."

"That's _not_ what I said," I disagreed. He frowned a little. "I said she doesn't have family!"

"I know that," he told me.

"I was thinking we could make her part of our family."

"You know we can't." I growled, frustrated, and threw my hands in the air. "Missy, get that attitude under control."

"I didn't mean as your wife!" I shouted at him. He stared.

"What?" His face was actually turning red.

"Because you won't _marry_ her and make her my _mom_ ," I told him in the most embarrassing tones I could manage for him to continue to redden, "I was hoping that you could sort of make her like an aunt but _not_ an aunt." My father actually sputtered as his face became akin to a beet in color. "So, whenever you change your mind, it won't be weird to call her something else!"

"Dawn Rose Mustang!" he managed to strangle out, my name coming out in a shout. I stared at him as innocently as possible. "I _can't_ marry her!"

"I _know_ , which is totally stupid!"

"Alright, room! Now!" I huffed and stomped off towards my bedroom, following his imperious direction and finger. "Faster!"

I went faster.

I just didn't think it was very fair that he was being such a jerk about it. I shouted my opinion over my shoulder. "My mother didn't want you to be alone and I'm not enough!" That door closing wasn't very final because he came in later and spanked me for my cheek.

-/-/-/-

Author's Post-Note: Aaaand this could be a reason as to why Olivier hates Roy. In canon, I suspect it has more to do with the fact he's an 'upstart' more than anything else, but a 'badly behaved' child could do it, too. Also, meet the Mustang Gang! Yes, I made Falman a divorcee. And called Havoc a puppy (he makes me think of a lab, actually). And yes, I have got plenty of corporal punishment going for Dawn.

This is an era where it was largely in effect and Dawn's sassy enough she would get into trouble. I grew up with spankings. Spankings, I will tell you, are open-palmed strikes to the rump or belt (solid leather, not woven) lashings to the rump. It is predicated by an explanation as to why it's happening and it is finished with a 'lessons learned' talk. It is regulated and the physical pain should vanish within a couple of minutes. It's a relatively harmless way of ensuring the kid doesn't _die_ from doing something stupid. That's my opinion. You're more than welcome to disagree with my thoughts, but I think my parents did me right.

Thank you for reading. **Please review.**


	13. In Which I Lose Family

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Note: I've been going through some rough patches. You'd not believe the sheer amount of emotional trauma that I have been going through. It's not that I don't wish to continue this story. It resulted in a block that I've not been able to get over until the trauma hit a new peak and I was able to get over some of the pain I was feeling by expunging it with, hopefully, coherent writing. On the plus side, I now am direct with the company I'm working for, which is a big deal for me. For one, it came with a pay raise of about $7.50 an hour. For another, better health insurance. When you're an adult, _that's a big deal_.

Reviews: I've had a few this last time, and I've appreciated each one.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 13: In Which I Lose Family

.

Dad might have had his opinion on my inclusion of Miss Hawkeye to our family, but he didn't realize how crafty I could be. Or maybe he could but didn't expect me to rebel despite having been punished. Still, I had designs and I started trying to put them into motion.

It didn't go immediately well for one reason, which was the fact that I wasn't really invited into the military complex and Miss Hawkeye didn't socialize with any Mustang outside of work. It didn't mean I hadn't made an effort to create something with alchemy. It wasn't much, just a simple colored pendant that I'd made out of 'art glass', which was to say I used a few different marbles together to create a pendant of blues, greens, and purples into a flat teardrop-shaped disk that looked like a peacock feather. Hooray for cheap bits of glass, right? I even got a leather cord (because I couldn't afford silver) and strung the newly made pendant onto it.

Despite my pretty pendant and my wish to give it to the woman for its twofold meaning of apology for offending her and hope she'd be more amenable to being close to my family as something more than Dad's could-have-been girlfriend, I still had zero chances to come to work with Dad. I asked. I wheedled. I even threw a fit. That got me another spanking, but I got over it fairly quickly. My biggest hurdle was trying to get past my father.

So, instead, I decided on a different direction.

Phonebooks were still a big thing in Amestris. In a world where there was nothing like the World Wide Web, what would have been deemed 'older methods' were still a very real thing. Phonebooks were one such thing. So, I did some research. It didn't take much to figure out if Miss Hawkeye was in the dorms. After all, all I had to do was ask my Dad and he told me honestly enough… when I asked about each of the homes of his subordinates. He had told me Miss Hawkeye did _not_ live in the dorms alongside the other women soldiers. She lived in an apartment. So, I took time to look her up.

It went reasonably well, of course. I found only one Hawkeye listed in all of East City and that Hawkeye was, thankfully, the one _I_ wanted to talk to. So, after writing down her address, I began to think of how I should persuade her with my pendant.

After a bit, I decided to write a letter and send a package. There was no way I could possibly encourage my father to let me go off alone right now as I was only eight and there was no way I could convince him of innocence if I wanted to go to the address where Miss Hawkeye lived. So, I wrote a letter.

I said some things about wanting to give her something nice for what she'd given me, that I'd made it with alchemy by myself, and that I hoped she didn't have any hard feelings for the questions I'd asked because all I had wanted was to help my father heal. Then I wrapped the pendant in a small, cloth-lined box, folded the letter into it as well, and sent it into the mail one morning before school.

I would learn the results of my efforts two days later when my father came home with an incredulous look on his face. "When did you make that pendant?" I gave him a blank look, having been in the middle of doing history homework, before realizing what he had said.

"A couple weeks ago?" I hedged. "Did Miss Hawkeye like it?" He gave me a frustrated look, running his hand through his hair, and sat down across from me at the table.

"I believe so, yes. She wore it today." I perked up at that. "But you went against what I said, Xiao-Hua," he continued. "I know what you're trying to do."

"I just wanted for her to have a family," I muttered, looking down at my homework.

"She can't be your mom, Dawn," he pressed.

"I know that. Because you both are being stupid." I regretted that statement almost immediately because my hand was snatched and slapped. I drew back with a pout, cradling it. My pencil rocked on the table where I'd dropped it when he'd snatched my hand.

"You know better than that," he scolded.

"What else do you want me to call it?" I asked mulishly, glowering at him. "Dad, I know your reasoning but…" I stopped myself at his look and averted my gaze in a submissive gesture though I was not thrilled. "Fine. I'll drop it. But not the part where she needs family."

"And why not?"

"She doesn't have anyone. She said so. Not her parents. Not grandparents. Not even an aunt and uncle. No siblings. Nothing."

"She has friends."

"That's not family," I stated, looking back at him. He snorted and leaned back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. "How many friends does she have?"

"One that I know of. Probably more. And she has the support of her fellow soldiers under my command." I sighed, wondering at his idiocy. For all the smarts my father had, he was surprisingly stupid at times. Or obtuse. "Stop that. You're sounding like a little old lady again."

"Dad," I returned, wondering vaguely at the fact that there must have been something about a child's voice to keep people from listening to them with any sort of gravity. "You had Aunt Chris growing up, right?"

"Not the grandest of examples, but yes."

"And then Grandma and Grandpa." He sighed.

"Yes, I did."

"And me."

"I do, yes."

"I have all of that too, only you instead of me." He arched a brow. "Where's her family? Who can she trust like I can trust you and Grandma and Grandpa?" Dad sighed again, shaking his head.

"It doesn't work that way, Xiao-Hua."

"It did for Uncle Maes," I countered softly. "Why is this so different? No one knows you two were together back then, do they?"

"No, they don't," he murmured. "And we were never really together."

"Then what's the problem?" I heard him mutter 'out of the mouths of babes' before shaking his head once more.

"Very well. You can adopt her as family," he gave in. "But, you have to understand… She can't be your mom. I don't know if she'll ever be your mom, but it won't be anytime soon." I picked up my pencil, all too aware he was only giving up on a very small point. I still smiled at him though I didn't think it reached my eyes.

"Thanks, Dad." It wasn't much of a victory… but I had won.

.

One day after school, I had a different destination than 'home' in mind. It was mostly because Dad had made an appointment in which I was to have my vision tested. I wasn't overly thrilled about it but at least it was after school so I had all night to recover. Right now, though, I had to trek towards the military complex of East City. After saying goodbye to Laura and her family, I walked a completely different direction from the one I normally walked, well aware of the fact that it was a bit further than home. I was also aware for another reason, too. A lot of kids don't have the thought in mind that anything can happen, so didn't look out for problems like suspicious strangers as much. I did.

It wasn't something new. I did it usually, aware that my feet were my best friends right now. If I couldn't run for safety and get attention, I was pretty much screwed.

That being said, nothing happened which was a good thing. The next hurdle was the guards at the gate. I stared at them. They watched me in glances as they paid more attention to the street. Finally martialing my courage, I stepped forward.

It turned out I didn't even have to. "Miss Dawn," greeted Miss Hawkeye, coming through the gate from somewhere. I'd not noticed her coming up but I relaxed instantly at the sight of her.

"Hi, Miss Hawkeye," I greeted, sensing she was a lot more amicable now towards me. "How are you?"

"Well enough. Come along. Your father's waiting."

"Yes, ma'am." With the clear approval of someone else, the guards let me through. It probably further helped considering Miss Hawkeye's shoulders had more decorations than theirs did.

If all else failed, follow the leader.

I followed her into the complex, looking around. It wasn't that much different than the Central City complex, mostly because they were both military. It was full of people dressed in the military uniform, both male and female. It featured bland halls with little decoration as it wasn't meant for showing off. It was clear I was very much out of place.

I kept garnering second glances, and I think the only reason I wasn't stopped and questioned was because of Miss Hawkeye.

"Who is this?" a lady at the front desk asked, looking at me in interest as Miss Hawkeye signed the register. It was nearly a coo, all considered, and I only marginally forgave her because she was actually an older lady.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang's daughter, Dawn," Miss Hawkeye told her, finishing out the entry. It was to the point and I saw the woman's eyes widen a little at the words.

"I didn't know he was married," she mused. Miss Hawkeye had laid down the pen and had a hand on my shoulder again.

"He isn't." I considered the return words only to look up at Miss Hawkeye while she led me away. It could either mean Dad was unmarried and raised me himself, Dad had been married but divorced, or Dad was a widower. I mulled this over before sighing. "What is it?" she asked of me once we were well away from the nosey secretary.

"A lot of ladies flirted with Dad because he usually had me and did good with me," I told her and watched as she frowned slightly. "I didn't really like it."

"I see," she mused.

"Dad said you liked your necklace." The look on her face shifted and she smiled a little, glancing down at me.

"It was very well done. He said you transmuted it on your own."

"Yes, I did," I told her proudly. "And I made it look like a peacock feather!"

"It was very well done. I'm wearing it now, actually." I really perked up at that and she chuckled at my grin. "It's good that it's not too large."

"Well, you seem really practical," I told her. "I mean, you're in the military and you kind of act no-nonsense. But you're still a girl, so…" She smiled.

"Thank you," she told me. "And for your letter, too."

"I want you to have someone you can rely on like I rely on Dad as family, Miss Hawkeye." Her smile saddened a little but it didn't disappear.

"Thank you, Dawn," she murmured, dropping the 'Miss'.

"You're welcome, Miss Hawkeye."

"You can call me Riza if you wish." I considered her and then grinned.

"I'll call you 'Aunt Riza'," I decided. "That way you don't have to worry."

Her nod was a little grateful but her gaze was thoughtful, and I was then brought into my dad's office. I looked around, curious, and realized that it was fairly spacious. It probably had to be considering the number of desks shoved in there. There were four desks shoved together in a block, butted together front-to-front and end-to-end. At these four desks sat the four men I'd previously met. Another desk sat separate and empty, one I assumed belonged to the newly-dubbed Aunt Riza. However, she escorted me to a final desk that was set up so that whoever sat at it would have their back to the window.

That was where my father sat. I greeted the men who greeted me, but I was put before my dad and I smiled at him. "Hi," I offered cheerily. He snorted in amusement, looking up from whatever he'd been reading.

"Thank you for retrieving her, Lieutenant," Dad told Aunt Riza. "Dawn, come sit while I finish a few things up." I did as told, sitting in one of the two seats before his desk. It took some effort to keep me from commenting and asking questions and I did politely turn to my studies, choosing to do a little homework before we had to leave. However, I got distracted when I heard a literal and persistent series of ' _pst_!' sounds coming from behind me. I looked around the chair and somewhat over my shoulder at the men, book for my math homework carefully balanced in my lap. Mr. Havoc was grinning widely and gesturing at me. I blinked.

He again gestured and I realized he wanted me to come over. I glanced at my father, who was currently writing something on a page and seeming to ignore me. It would be really stupid to think I could go over without him noticing and, as if he heard what I was thinking, Dad glanced up at yet another insistent ' _pst_!' with an arched brow at the man making the noise. He then looked at me, rolled his eyes, and refocused on Aunt Riza who was currently taking and handing over papers to with him. Considering how he'd not said 'no', I closed my book and climbed out of the chair. Going over to the insistent man, I asked, "What?" He actually looked a bit abashed by my frankness and the fact I'd not lowered my voice at all. Still, he grinned. His cigarette bobbed in his teeth, smoke curling around his head and drifting up. He seemed to be really hooked on the things.

"What were you studying?"

"Math," I shrugged. He snorted, glancing at the man across from him, who was Mr. Breda.

"You sound really put out," he teased.

"Math is boring," I told him seriously. "I don't care how important it is." He snickered.

"I feel the same way."

"For different reasons." It was out before I could sensor myself, and he actually looked startled before laughing.

"Maybe so. Why don't you like it?"

"Because it's in everything and I don't like it even if I'm good at it." That was the annoying thing. I'd always been good at math. Even in my previous life, I could remember that much. It was amazing how faded everything else was now, practically vestiges of memory, but I could remember little random facts like that.

It bothered me at times that I couldn't remember beyond hair color and some broad-spectrum details about those of that other life anymore. I knew it would likely happen, the closer things overwriting memories of those long gone. Still, I was generally good at some things in both lives. One of those things had been math even if I preferred history in that other life. Now, my favorite subject was science.

"It's not in everything," Mr. Breda tried to interject. I gave him a bit of a blank look even as Mr. Falman spoke up.

"Actually, it is. We don't think about most of the math that is involved in the world, but everything is governed by it. Percentages, probabilities, and even the way something flies through the air can be described with math." Both redhead and blonde gave the gray-haired man a sour look. I just stood by, allowing the older man to school the other two with my hands innocently clasped behind my back.

"Falman, you don't have to give us the history of everything involving math," retorted Havoc. Falman allowed a small smile to curl on his lips.

"Telling such a history would be impossible," he returned. "I am not able to tell you how the world came into existence." The other men actually pulled faces as I giggled at the droll humor. Mr. Falman flashed me a small smirk at that.

Before I could distract them further, I was called back to my seat by Dad and returned to my studies. I liked those men. They each had a very distinctive personality with the underlying 'military personality' that tended to be admirable and irritating at the same time. There was a commonality, one that I found very amusing, and I smiled briefly at Dad for allowing a bit of playing about even if Mr. Havoc complained behind me a little before shutting up when Aunt Riza shot him a look. I saw the look because she'd been standing next to Dad when she gave it. Boy, that woman could give a _look_.

Still, it was a pleasant way to spend some time before being taken by my dad to the eye doctor. And we did once time came closer. Leaving was about as interesting as coming in but even more so because it seemed more people were along the way to the entrance though Dad did little more than offer a faint smile and a nod of the head to a few. It seemed to me rumor had gotten out that Roy Mustang had a daughter and nosey people had come to peek.

Once we got free of the facility, I looked up at him. He was doing the parent-thing while carrying my satchel of schoolbooks and looked relatively comfortable doing so. "I like them," I told my father. He glanced down at me.

"What?"

"I like them. Those people of yours." He considered that before nodding.

"I like them, too," he agreed. "Come on, Xiao-Hua. We've got places to be."

.

The world changed after I turned nine. It changed in a way that I didn't immediately notice but, once brought to my attention, was irrevocable and all-consuming. The phone call had not included me, though I remembered the look of shock that played across Dad's face. He didn't immediately talk to me, instead going to that not-so-secret stash of alcohol he kept hidden in a supposedly 'too high up' cabinet. He didn't even care if I watched as he poured out a finger of alcohol and slammed it back.

"Dad?" I asked cautiously, aware of his volatile nature at the moment. He rarely drank, mostly because he didn't want to set a bad precedent for me. Now, though, he was pouring out a second finger. "Dad? What happened?"

He thankfully didn't down this finger as well and carefully resealed the bottle before turning to me. He did pick up the glass he was using, though. "Your grandfather," he began only to pause at my horrified gasp. "He's still alive. For now," he amended wearily. "But he's sick. Very sick."

"With what?" I asked fearfully as he walked over to the table and sat down wearily, sipping instead of slugging once again. I came closer as well, searching his face for answers.

"He's got tuberculosis." That didn't sound terrible. Wasn't that treatable? I _thought_ it was treatable, but the look of upset didn't fade from Dad's face. "It's… It's not good, Xiao-Hua," he told me. "Your grandma told me he coughed up blood in front of her… Apparently he'd been feeling unwell but had refused to go to the hospital…" He broke off and took a long drink from his 'adult beverage'.

"Is he going to die?" I asked weakly, afraid of the answer.

He set the glass down and sighed, alcohol coloring his breath. "There's a good chance." I shifted uncomfortably. "Your grandma said that she didn't want us there right now. He's ill and crabby at being confined." My hands were knotting up my skirt as the enormity of what he was saying fell upon me. Tuberculosis was supposed to be treatable, right? Like, with a vaccine? "There is no vaccine for it, Xiao-Hua," he told me, and I realized I'd said it out loud. I looked up at him. "There is nothing we can do other than hope he survives and they are treating him with penicillin." But… penicillin wasn't a cure-all. It was as hard on the body as anything else, too, especially if there was an allergic reaction. "We'll see about visiting not this weekend, but the next, alright?" I nodded, not even sure what to say.

He drew me to him, hugging me close. He smelled of alcohol and I gripped his shirt as my mind spun. "What if he dies?" I said it without thinking and his hug tightened slightly.

"Then he won't be sick anymore," he replied. That was true, I supposed. He wouldn't be 'sick' anymore. He'd be dead.

And, unfortunately, I understood the word 'death' far better than many children would at my age.

.

I stood there for a long moment, considering the man who was my grandfather. He looked sick. He looked weak. He looked _frail_. He was in a hospital bed with lines in his arm and a breathing tube in his nose. He was _too young_ all considered, only in his forties. Right now, he napped as we had entered the room when his eyes were shut. He wheezed like a bellows and I'd already been warned against getting too close. Tuberculosis was extremely infectious… and my father didn't want to have me sick, too. So, I stood quietly before being told to sit by my grandmother. She went back to talking quietly with my father. I didn't really listen to what they were saying.

I had done some research on tuberculosis. It was also sometimes called 'consumption' still because extended disease tended to make the person lose weight. It could be spread a variety of ways, like coughing, spitting, sneezing… or speaking. Those that were too close were made to wear masks and gloves. I knew that I would, too. I'd possibly never be able to kiss him ever again because his disease was too dangerous. I knew it was inside him, causing him to cough bloody spittle, have fever, suffer from night sweats… and eventually have weight loss. It could get even worse if the infection was to spread to other parts of him.

Grandpa wheezed before coughing, turning his head instinctively (and thankfully) away. Grandma, who had a pair of gloves on and a mask she reasserted over her face, abandoned her talk with Dad and moved closer to help her husband. He waved her off despite the coughing that ailed him and I watched her step back, clasping her hands before her worriedly.

Finally, the coughing came to an end and he wheezed, wiping at his lips as he sagged back onto the inclined bed. I stared as he looked over and saw us for the first time. There was a long moment before his breathing calmed a little and I moved to get closer… only to be stopped by Dad's hands. Grandpa's gaze flicked up to him before smiling a little and looking to me again. "Stay there, Dawnie," he wheezed. "I don't want you to catch this." I nodded slowly.

"Okay, Grandpa."

"Hello, son."

"Hello, Barty," Dad returned, his hands still on my shoulders. "You aren't looking very good." The man started laughing weakly before it became a cough even as Grandma admonished Dad with a sharp and affronted 'Roy!'

"No, no… I'm not," Grandpa responded once his coughing was controlled again, a strained smile still on his lips. "I hate this hospital," he confided. "I want to go home… but if I go there, I just risk hurting more people." My fingers clenched into my skirt.

The adults talked for a while before Grandma and Dad excused themselves from the room, presumably to talk more important matters away from young ears and ill men. I was only permitted to stay when I promised I wouldn't get too close.

"You don't need to look so sad, Dawnie," Grandpa told me seriously.

"There's a chance you'll die," I returned, my words loud in the otherwise still room. He coughed a little but then sighed wearily.

"A pretty good one, too," he admitted honestly. I winced. "You do understand, though, don't you? You've always understood better than most adults." He offered another cough, covering his mouth yet again with the provided handkerchief. I honestly didn't know how well it would prevent disease. It was a major risk with me just being in the _room_.

"I think a lot."

"I know. You've always seen more, Dawn. Don't be sad that I'm probably going to die."

"I'm sad I'll lose you," I told him, looking at him. My fingers were still clutched into my skirt. "Like my mom…" I broke off as he gave a quiet little chuckle.

"Yes. If I do die, I'll be seeing Abby again. Horribly unfair to your grandma, isn't it?"

"It is," I agreed. "Because then she'll have lost her baby and her best friend." He winced at the words.

"You sure don't pull punches, do you, Dawn?" he grumped, and I winced at the admonishment. "That's not terrible, though." He eyed me for a moment. "I do love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too," I returned semi-dutifully. He smiled, coughed, and then shifted in bed with a sigh.

"Tell me a story, Dawnie." I blinked. I had spent many years listening to stories from the family around me and I knew many stories that pertained to this world… when I'd not been learning alchemy. I had in turn told many stories, usually 'made up' ones that had been deliberately pilfered from another world or heavily modified, using concepts from another life but not using the entirety of the stories as I hadn't had that good of a memory.

If I'd dared to quote some of those large fantasy epics word-for-word, I'd have been severely challenged for I couldn't remember anything of them save for the high points.

But Grandpa had asked for a story and I could give him one. I began with one I thought would resonate best with this man… It was a basic fantasy story and I was pretty certain I wasn't telling the original tale, but it did involve fantastic things and Grandpa did listen. When Dad and Grandma returned, they didn't interrupt my tale whatsoever and listened as I continued talking about strange birds and talking dogs and adventures too odd for normal things all the while seeming to make it up on the spot.

I had remembered that one theory of the story was something similar to an after-death experience and I knew better than most that death wasn't only an ending. I told the story, describing all the wonderful things, just wanting to make my possibly-dying grandfather smile.

By the end, Grandpa was smiling, a gentle look on his face. "That was a very good story," he congratulated. He had coughed during my telling, of course, and I'd always paused so that he could recover and listen. "Where did you come up with it all?" I shrugged, looking down. Dad's hands pressed into my shoulders once more.

"I just did." Even if in my old life it would have been blatant plagiarism, I wasn't above claiming it as my own. I'd heavily edited out the more technological parts… but it was more or less direct plagiarism.

"You could be a writer with that fantastic sort of tale," he told me. I looked up at him in surprise. "Any of your tales, honestly," he added before coughing and then wheezing from the effort.

"We probably should let you rest," Grandpa told him. He gave her an annoyed look.

"Sarah, let's be realistic. I might not leave this hospital breathing."

"Barty!" she scolded, looking to me in worry.

"That girl is more aware of life and death than even you," he snorted before hacking once again as his throat scratched from his verbosity. "She is going to be _fine_."

"I'm not," defended Sarah, looking angry and upset. "You're the love of my life, Barty."

"I know," he replied a bit more gently. "But it's not like we will never see each other again, even if I do pass."

"There's…" Dad's words were cut off as I pinched him quickly. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"Science can't disprove such a thing," I muttered. And even if I never spoke of it…

But maybe I could.

"Xiao-Hua," Dad said, unaware of my thoughts. "This isn't the time for silly talks."

"I know what I'm talking about," I refuted quietly. "Science can't prove anything about an afterlife… but I could." There was a moment of stillness where I sat there and everyone focused on me. "Sometimes…" I broke off, recalling my own indecision about telling. I could tell just the vague things… but not anything more concrete such as half-memories of a half-remembered series. "Sometimes I remember being someone else."

Most of the time, I was just Dawn.

"What?" That was the blankest utterance I'd ever heard in my life, and it had come from my grandmother's mouth.

"I remember being someone else. But not much. Not… like I'm… I remember being someone else, though." It wasn't very clear and my words were near mumbles.

"Who?"

"I don't know who," I returned to my father, though I didn't look at him. My fingers were painfully tight. "And… so much of what I do remember was… overwritten… by being me." I swallowed. "I remember… being a grownup. Having a job." And then I deliberately lied and skirted the full truth. "I don't remember much, though. I remember being very… ordinary. I'm smarter, I think. I also… don't remember how I died." That was a truth. I didn't know how. "But… I know death isn't the end."

I knew no one understood how to take this little revelation, either.

"Dawnie?" Of course, it would be the dying man that spoke first. "Dawnie, look at me." I looked up as commanded and saw his serious face. "Why didn't you say this before?"

"Because I didn't want you to hate me," I mumbled, looking back at my lap. I would have hunched my shoulders, but Dad's grip kept me from hunching.

"Look at me, Dawn," commanded my grandfather. My gaze snapped up again. "Why do you think we would have hated you?"

"Because I lied. About… about knowing some things."

"Is this why you were so advanced?" I puzzled over this before shrugging.

"I don't know. I don't… I don't remember."

"Is this why you try so hard to please us?" he asked. I hesitated in answering and it obviously showed on my face. "Dawn?" he pressed. I nodded my head reluctantly.

"Dawn." It was my Dad's turn and he came around to crouch before me. I felt ashamed, taking the attention from my grandfather who was possibly dying. He looked into my eyes, though, and looked aggrieved at what he saw. "What do you know about war?" I stared at him, surprised. "You have handled my post-war experience far better than you should have. What do you know about it?"

I tried to figure out how to best explain it before going for honest truth. "No one survives unchanged," I mumbled, looking down again. "I never saw it myself… but… I saw those who did. They either come back different… or dead." The blunt words had him blinking. "Sometimes they cope. Sometimes they can't. Sometimes they get better… Sometimes they don't." It was the most delicate way I could put I'd been worried about my father's mental health and, therefore, his continued existence in the world of the living. I swallowed, throat thick with emotions, as he absorbed that. "I knew you'd not come back the same. I just… didn't want you to die."

I found myself being hugged despite still being in the chair. It had me in the odd position of being a little above his head, capable of looking down on it. I looked at my grandparents, who looked at me with fascination and curiosity.

There were some things I couldn't speak of. I wouldn't speak of them. I knew my father was important. I didn't know everything, though. I still knew about two boys…

But further than that? I would leave my origins ubiquitous. They would stay a mystery, too. It was true I'd forgotten much of who I was before 'Dawn Mustang'. It was enough for them to know I knew of other things and other times. I just wouldn't define _which_ times. That was easy enough.

By the time we left, I'd had a few other probing questions put to me, but it had now sufficiently been explained as far as my grandfather was concerned. Death wasn't only an end. It could also be a beginning…

…And his granddaughter could definitely be considered a little old lady.

I'd pouted about that, actually. It had encouraged laughter in the others before Grandpa had devolved into a coughing fit. Then I was firmly told to not talk about it to others. I watched as Grandpa forbade Grandma and Dad from speaking about it to anyone else. In fact, he encouraged them to drop it entirely. He told me to do the same.

He was going to protect his granddaughter, he said. And even now he commanded our little family despite being hospitalized with tuberculosis. I felt grateful to him… even though I feared losing him.

.

The overall quality of day-to-day activities hadn't changed. I went back to school and attended classes without complaints. I didn't talk about my grandfather's illness. I didn't voice my previous life from the rooftops. My grandfather was right with his warnings. I could be considered a lunatic. It was only because he insisted on not making it a big deal that I had memories of another life. However, I did become subject of subtle questions from my father during the evenings.

I avoided most of it by blankly staring at him. Some of them were _genuine_ stares as I figured out rather quickly I couldn't remember the details I'd remembered before. I did divulge having remembered a previous grandfather die too soon for my liking and I explained part of my upset about the zoological parks had been, in part, due to a deep love for animals and having seen better zoos in that previous life. He had not been entirely amused by the devious little question of 'can we have a puppy' to distract him from my words…

I did, however, get a 'maybe' out of that sideways question. Disgustingly, I honestly hoped I could get a pet. That was the child instincts, of course.

"Child instincts?" he asked as I muttered darkly about it. I blushed.

"That's what I call them. When I… behave like a child?" He blinked at me before snorting.

"You _are_ a child."

"I think older than I am," I countered soberly. "I might not… remember much, but I do reason like an adult. I just can't act like one all the time. I'm still a kid."

As we discussed this, I was chopping vegetables as he worked on the meat for our meal. "You might have done that as a baby, too," he mused.

"I think I did." He snorted. "I… I had to contend with baby instincts, though. I know I did irrational things and I didn't have a reason for them. I just chalked it up to being a baby."

"It would explain your advancement and your genius," Dad mused. I hummed with a nod.

"I'm not _that_ smart. I just had a head start." He chuckled.

"No, you are smart. You just managed to have a bit of a head start as well. I'm a bit jealous, actually." I giggled even as his smile faded. "Honestly, I don't know where I'd be without you."

"I don't know where I'd be without you, either," I murmured. "I… I could have never been given to you. You'd have never known me." And what if that had happened originally? What if my father had never known he'd had a child?

"I'm glad that didn't happen," he replied seriously. "Now, pass me those vegetables." I realized I had finished chopping and handed over the bowl I'd been dumping my pieces into. He then dumped those pieces in with the bits of chicken, intending to make a stir fry.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Xiao-Hua." He said it absently, but it was a subtle proof he was willing to keep me close and accepted some of what I said. The pan's contents sizzled as he stirred.

"You have no idea how much I love you." He actually paused, straightened, and then turned to me with a peculiar look on his face. Then it shifted to a smile.

"I know, sweetheart," he told me. "I love you, too. Now, see about setting the table. The food's nearly done." I did as told.

.

Dad didn't tell Aunt Riza or Uncle Maes. He didn't tell anyone. He didn't even seem to contemplate it other than when he had some random question or when I was badly behaved… and even then his reactions rarely varied from how he would have before though he did consider my reasoning before punishing me. His reactions had gained a new depth. He knew I was aware of what I did wrong for the most part. And he explained when I didn't understand. All in all, he was perhaps not the best father in the world but he was still a father to me.

His questions about my former life were varied, of course. Most of what he asked tended towards more existential questions when I proved altogether too vague about other things, namely technology and my former nationality. I didn't think he really needed to know… mostly because I knew that vague place had never been a part of _this_ world. I'd forgotten too much to be useful about it anyway.

Still, Grandpa's condition deteriorated all through this period of time. We visited each weekend, keeping an eye on the man who hacked and coughed and grew progressively thinner. I knew without having to be told he would die. He was suffering for too long I had seen, especially when Dad and Grandma talked where they thought I couldn't hear them. The few 'cures' they had weren't working very well and Grandpa was getting weaker.

It would be far too soon that he'd be gone.

"You shouldn't look so down." I looked up at my grandfather, who looked at me with a sad little smile. "You told me yourself that there's life after death."

"Grandpa…" I faltered, uncertain of what else to say for a long moment. His gaze was calm and watchful as he breathed slowly as to not aggravate his lungs. "It doesn't change the fact I'll be losing you."

"I know." I settled back into my seat. "You have no idea how much it ached to lose my grandparents and my parents… Did I ever tell you how I lost them?" I shook my head, not really remembering. He'd told me ages back, but only in passing, and I'd never had a head for such passing comments in either life. "My mother died of tuberculosis, too." I winced. "My father had an accident at work."

"And your grandparents?"

"Heart attack, old age, stroke, and illness… Not too happy, hm?" I shook my head 'no'. "Do you remember how you died?"

"No. I don't want to remember, either." He nodded.

"Perhaps some kind of amnesia?" he tendered. I shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. Most of those memories have been damaged by time anyway."

"You certainly have a sanguine view of things," he snorted before coughing. I arched a brow at him, disregarding the coughing for a moment.

"Sanguine? That's not very nice," I returned when he got his cough under control. He wheezed for a bit, the amusement warring with the strain of breathing. "I hardly have a bloody outlook on it." He actually looked a bit baffled at that. "Sanguine means bloody or blood-red."

"I meant the other way," he admitted. "Optimistic…"

"Sounds like being 'sanguine' covers all the options." He sighed, a smile curling at his lips. "Grandpa?"

"Yes, Dawnie?"

"I won't be seeing you again, will I?" His sigh was more aggrieved.

"I'm scared, Dawn," he murmured. "I don't want to leave you all behind. Not your grandma, especially. I don't want her to be alone."

"You know we'd take care of her. Maybe even get her to move to East City with us. Dad would appreciate it, I think." He eyed me at that pronunciation. "Don't be afraid of death, Grandpa. Death doesn't hurt."

"Dying does. Leaving you all behind does." I didn't really have a good answer to that and looked down again.

"I know."

"Dawn?" I looked at him, aching. "Please. Take care of your grandma?"

"Of course." He smiled before lapsing into harsh coughing once more. I was quickly shuffled from the room, aware the last image I'd have of him would be him hacking bloody spittle.

I hated that I was right. Not even a week after I'd been ushered from the room to defend my health, my grandfather died. His last words had been to my grandmother to be happy, even if it meant remarrying. Then he was gone and I'd been in school when it happened. I knew what had occurred when I was called out of class only to be picked up by Aunt Riza and brought right to the station where my father had two bags packed.

"Take care, Dawn," encouraged Aunt Riza. I looked at her, feeling so old, and nodded. I didn't spare words for her.

I did, however, huddle against my father on the train and cried the entire way to Central.

-/-/-/-

Postscript: I'm aware I made Barty's descent into death technically 'quick', but it was done over 'months' and not 'days'. It wasn't actually all _that_ fast in 'reality'. Still, character death is not fun but necessary.

Thank you for reading. **Please review.**


	14. In Which I Gain Family

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Reviews: I was rather amazed and floored when I got quite the handful of reviews. I'd not anticipated it and I certainly do appreciate it. I got 17 reviews for a total of 165, and a favorites and followers count of 333 and 422 respectively. This thrills me to no end, considering the fact I'm writing a story I don't commonly read. Plots revolving around a 'self-insert' character are usually pretty much the same: 'Person is inserted, instantly kickass, and bonds with everyone'. I took a shine to a self-insert titled "Dreaming of Sunshine" (Naruto fic), though, and I extremely enjoy that one. That being said, I have a few answers for a couple of reviews to give.

Orlha: How much she remembers or does not remember is addressed later on in the story. Suffice to say, what she saw of FMA was both in another lifetime and years before she will be able to effect anything of true significance.

(Guest Reviewer) "Big Fan": She will be meeting the boys 'soon', but there are events that have to happen first. 'Vet Alchemy' is something she's not going to pull off anytime soon, focusing more on standard alchemy since anything medical related is probably better done with rentanjutsu (that she doesn't know about yet). I also blame my mother's love of vet shows as to why she has an urge to be a vet. As far as the labs, you will have to wait and see.

Author's Note: When I was ten, my grandfather suddenly passed away from cancer. I went to school that morning, not worried about him, only to come home that afternoon with my great aunt comforting my shell-shocked grandmother and my parents busy arranging for a funeral. This is an enormous psychological scar I carry even over twenty years later. He was remarkable in the way I made Barty remarkable, so in knowing Barty, you have an idea about him. As for the emotional trauma I have recently been undergoing, that will be yet another major psychological scar. Additionally, apologies for this chapter. There are a few more extremely emotional things I'm going to have to do, including but not limited to the funeral of Barty Edgecombe.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 14: In Which I Gain Family

.

The funeral was about as expected. Grandpa was put into a sealed coffin because of the disease that had ravaged him, we sat in the first row of seats with Grandma bracketed by Dad and I as she sobbed into a lacy handkerchief, Dad spent most of his time comforting her, and I sat silent and numb.

I'd never been good with death. I, in fact, had never handled my own death simply because I put the fact I'd died out of my head as I'd never remembered the incident. But I had always shut down during funerals, doing as told, offering rote condolences, and little else. I hated funerals. I hated losing people.

And I'd lost my grandfather.

I supposed I looked adorable in my black dress and hose and shoes. I supposed the little twin buns atop my head, twisted and positioned by my grandmother in an attempt to do _something_ distracting from the impending funeral that morning… but I didn't feel any of it. I just stayed quiet and near my grandmother no matter what, ignoring the condolences coming from sympathetic people. I didn't meet anyone's eyes, staring off into space somewhere straight ahead and far below the eye-level of any adult.

"Rosie." I looked up then, registering the voice, and saw Uncle Maes. He was smiling sympathetically, gaze very sad. I quickly averted my eyes, not wanting the sympathy. I didn't want to break down here right now…

It didn't help that, after a few hushed words with my grandmother, I was pulled away. "No. I… I gotta stay with Grandma," I protested, my eyes burning in my frustration.

"Come on, Rosie," he encouraged. "You can't be a perfect little lady the entire day. Come on. You've been so good."

"No!" I was surprised by the vehemence in my voice and the fact my eyes burned. "No! I…!" I didn't finish for a moment because he picked me up, no one stopping him but many looking my way. I didn't like being drug away from the gravesite. I knew there would be that damnable 'after party', whatever it was. But I was being forced. "Uncle Maes, let me go!" I shouted, hoping that by doing so in his ear would force him to do as demanded.

"Your Dad said to take you," he disagreed even if he did flinch. I immediately sought out my father, but he wasn't looking at me. He was still with Grandma and _neither_ looked to me. "It's time, Gracia." I realized my vision was growing even more blurred as I tried to figure out an argument to get me free but, for whatever reason, my brain was suddenly malfunctioning.

"Are you able to carry her?" asked a feminine voice. I didn't look around as my throat closed with surging emotions.

"She's heavier, yeah, but… I'll be fine."

"Please let me go," I whispered, sounding a bit strangled.

"No, Dawn. I'm not." That denial was the last straw and my arms clasped him about the neck more securely as I buried my face into his shoulder and _sobbed_. The hand on my back wasn't my uncle's, his arms were too busy supporting me because I _was_ nine years old. My cries were those deep, full-body, wrenching sobs and I just let it out because I couldn't get free of my uncle. I could barely hear the comforting words being spoken by Uncle Maes and his girlfriend, and I certainly couldn't comprehend them. I didn't care if I screamed my pain into his shoulder, leaving spittle to soak the cloth behind. I didn't care if my nose was leaking disgusting fluids onto him or that my tears streamed down my face. I just _cried_.

By the time I was released, I had been reduced to listlessness and stuffiness and I had an awful headache. My eyes burned and I just sat there where Uncle Maes sat me down. "Rosie?" he called and I looked up at him before vaguely looking around. I noted in that moment that he had taken me to the apartment he'd purchased in Central in an effort to forward his life. I'd known Gracia Harlow was something serious to him and I knew he intended to marry her. "Do you need something to drink?" I looked at him again before shaking my head. I immediately regretted that. I'd cried enough that I had a headache. I was no doubt dehydrated. "I think I'm going to have to insist, Rose," Uncle Maes sighed. "My shoulder says you need something to drink." I glanced to see the clearly nasty shoulder. He wasn't looking too thrilled either.

I did the very adult thing and just ignored him.

.

It took a while for Dad to come for me, mostly because there were things he and Grandma no doubt needed to do before dealing with a distraught child. By that point, Uncle Maes had forced water and food down my throat, turned on the radio, and let me just sit there. Miss Harlow, or 'Gracia' as she insisted upon when I was coaxed into talking to her a few times, stuck around. Perhaps it was because she had a certain fondness for me as I'd introduced her to her boyfriend or because she instinctively adored me. I didn't know. I didn't really care.

By the point Dad came for me, I had spent most of my time staring at practically nothing and feeling numb save for the occasional bouts of tears I found myself succumbing to now and again. My hair was loose, the buns having been worked out by Miss Gracia's fingers, and my shoes and hose had been removed. I vaguely found it amusing that, where Dad did many of the tasks himself, Uncle Maes had given over those same tasks to Miss Gracia.

And right as Uncle Maes answered the ringing doorbell, I caught sight of a flash from Miss Gracia's direction. I blinked at it dumbly as it came into focus before looking at her. "You're marrying Uncle Maes?" I asked blankly.

The woman blushed. Honest to goodness blushed bright enough that it went down her _neck_. "Yes," she admitted. I blinked slowly at her before understanding what it meant.

"Is this why you were trying to get me to drop the Miss Harlow?" I asked. Her blush deepened and she looked a bit pleased even as she nodded.

"Yes."

"When did he propose?" Her smile faded slightly.

"It was about a week ago. I think… I think your grandfather prompted it." Her words sounded apologetic and I considered the response before nodding, struggling against the grief.

"And that's why you've not announced it… because of Grandpa."

"Yes." Her gaze was warm and sad as she considered me. "Dawn, I'm sorry."

"For what?" My blank question had her blinking.

"Because… of your grandpa." I sighed wearily, turning away from her.

"You had nothing to do with it," I mumbled. She ran a hand over my hair and I found myself hooked into her arms, hugged close. Dad and Uncle Maes found us like that, and we then separated to look at the two men.

"Come on, Xiao-Hua. It's time to go," Dad told me, gaze gentle.

"Roy, before you go." Dad looked at his best friend curiously as I climbed off the couch with a bit of a hop off the couch. "I have something to tell you." I saw him gesture to Miss Gracia, who came over next to him. "And… sorry for not telling sooner." Dad looked quite baffled. Miss Gracia and Uncle Maes smiled at his confusion. "I proposed to Gracia," he told Dad. Dad blinked and then looked at the smiling Gracia. I couldn't have called it 'beaming' due to the circumstances the news was coming under.

"You did? When?"

"Last week," confirmed Miss Gracia. "I hope… I hope you're not too upset about it?"

"Why should I be?" Dad returned, even more baffled.

"Because of…" A darted look towards me had me encouraged to speak even if it probably hadn't been intended.

"They didn't want to say anything during a funeral." Dad looked down at my dull words before looking back at the couple.

"Am I the first to know? Outside Dawn, that is."

"No," denied Uncle Maes. "My parents know. Gracia's parents know. I'm just telling you right now I expect all three of you at my wedding." Dad's confusion returned. "Well, more accurately, I expect you as my Best Man and I think Gracia and I like the idea of Rosie being our flower girl. Of course, Sarah's expected, too." The confusion faded.

"I…" He glanced down at me. "I think that's perfectly acceptable. What do you think, Xiao-Hua?"

"I've never been in a wedding before," I told him, looking up. He nodded, perhaps understanding that it was not only this life I meant. "Is it fun?"

"It can be," Miss Gracia encouraged. "And you'll get to throw flowers around and wear a pretty dress." I mused that over before nodding.

"I can do that."

"Congratulations," Dad said, voice and expression turning warm, and then he found himself hugged by the bespectacled man.

Dad was not normally a tactile man outside myself, so seeing him stiffen up was somewhat amusing. And then Uncle Maes said something that had me smiling despite the tumultuous day. "Thanks, Roy. You're like a brother to me."

I think Dad was pretty pleased by the words, too.

.

Grandma looked very lost as she walked around her house. She still wore her funeral clothes and she stared blankly about, touching things before pulling away as though those things like they'd scalded her. "Sarah," called Dad, moving to her, and he suddenly found her in his arms, crying once more. He once again stiffened in surprise but relaxed far quicker than he had with Uncle Maes. I watched silently before coming closer on silent feet, my shoes off and therefore my stocking feet protected from making too much sound. I reached for her arm and she paused in her sobs, her ravaged face turning to me.

"Grandma. It'll be okay."

"How can you be certain?" she asked. I didn't take it as insult, realizing the validity of her somewhat harsh words.

"He… He's…" I faltered. "He's safe. He's not hurting. He's… He could be a baby right now. Like I was." Her face softened a little at my words.

"You… still don't know how you died?" I shook my head.

"She doesn't want to know, Sarah. I can't blame her for that." My grandmother knelt down and drew me into her arms. I clung to her in return.

"Oh, sweetheart… Thank you."

"You can come live with us," offered Dad as he watched us hug. "In East City? I know Xiao-Hua would love it." He hesitated before adding, "I'd enjoy having you near, too." She looked up at him.

"I'm not sure I can. Everything… Everything we built is _here_."

"You can take some of it with you. Or maybe get a new home in East City," I offered, drawing her attention to me. "Near to us… or maybe even in the same apartment building. Dad's right. I want you to live closer." Her gaze grew misty before she petted the sides of my face, smoothing loving hands over my temples and cheeks.

"While I know that, I'm not sure if I want to give this place up just yet."

"We do understand. But I'll give you this one warning, Sarah. If I think at any point you are just waiting to die or something, I reserve the right to drag you back to East City and make sure you remember your grandchild." She gave my father such a startled look that I felt a spike of pleasure from her shock.

"Roy!"

"I'll give you time to grieve, Sarah," he added kindly. "But I don't want you to grieve for the rest of your life. I know Barty wouldn't have wanted that. In fact, you told me he didn't. And since you're family… Well, I won't let you just disappear. Forget it."

"Dad always keeps his promises!" I chirped.

The woman looked very lost, but as we stood there with obvious love in our eyes, she didn't have any choice. She hugged me tightly once more… and cried yet again. But these tears, I think, were of relief.

.

We left Grandma in Central. It wasn't because we wished to ignore her but because she at least had some people there to watch after her. Several even agreed to keep an eye on her at Dad's insistence. The number one person that had agreed was, naturally, Uncle Maes. It was out of his way, but he didn't care. Grandma meant something to him because she meant something to _us_. Even Miss Gracia, the woman who would one day become my aunt, agreed to help. Yes, there were a few friends of Grandma's but they didn't report to Dad.

Unfortunately, we couldn't stay for long. I had school and Dad had work. And we had to go back to those things. Grandma understood. Grandma didn't resent us for that. So, we went back to 'normal'.

Time passed, unsurprisingly, and Winter Solstice came with a surprise. There was an invitation in the mail for a wedding in the spring for Maes Hughes and Gracia Harlow.

Dad immediately returned the invitation with an RSVP. I'd be ten when the marriage would happen and I was thrilled to no end, excited to be a part of it.

"You really haven't been in a wedding party before, have you?" I shook my head in the negative.

"Nope! I don't even know if I've been to a wedding at all, either." I declined to say I'd been in more funerals, but that was obviously a given. He snorted, hooking me close.

"I'm going to have to see if your grandma is willing to come live with us afterwards," he mused. My eyes lit up at the words.

"I hope so! I really want her close, Dad."

"I do, too. And I think it would be better for her to be close to us."

"Call and ask!"

"Of course, Xiao-Hua."

.

"Wedding, wedding!" I cheerily skipped, officially ten. My birthday had been fun, my father had found a place for my grandmother to live, and I had seen my chosen dress for the wedding. It was _flowery_ complete with a petticoat and everything else. There was even a ribbon for a belt and was white and purple.

Right now? I was dressed in an everyday dress for now, one that my father wasn't worried about getting dirty, as said father was neatening himself up in his dress uniform for his friend's wedding. My grandmother was also getting ready, her dress a solid lavender. She had pearls and white heels and I knew she had already gone through a number of her things, selecting out what would be sold and what would be kept. Some of what would be kept was already shipped to her new home but not all of it. I paused at the doorway of her bedroom and stopped.

"Grandma?" I questioned, sensing something in the air. She looked at me and away from her vanity mirror, her eyes misted with tears. "Grandma?" I asked, stepping closer as she hastily dabbed while trying to not cry too much.

"Yes, Dawn?" she asked, voice trembling with emotion. I reached up, gently touching a damp cheek.

"It's okay." I saw her hesitate, breath catching. Her larger hand pressed my hand flat to her cheek, and I smiled even as she smiled.

"You're a good girl, Dawn."

"I need help. Are you done?"

"Almost. Give me a little bit, sweetheart."

"Okay." I watched as she finished her makeup and final touches, which included a thin white belt about her natural waist, and was placed on the stool before her vanity. I'd sat on it several times before, usually in preparation of some kind of event. This time was no different. There was some makeup painted on and I sat patiently as a tiny bit of eyeshadow and lipstick was applied to my face. Then I was stripped down and redressed into my new dress. It had been specially sewn by Grandma, so I was pleased to wear it.

Once secured into the new outfit, she started doing my hair. It was brushed straight and then half was taken up to braid while the other half was loose. I would have had curls save for the fact that my hair _refused_ to hold any kind of curl. To make up for it, fresh flowers were woven into my braids. I loved the look. I could also see in the mirror that my grandmother was fighting tears again and I looked at her over my shoulder.

"Don't cry yet," I comforted. She laughed a bit at my insistence but didn't disagree.

"You're a mess, aren't you?" she asked.

"I try." She laughed again. Soon after, I had stockings and shoes on and was standing before her. Unlike my grandmother, though, I was wearing white Mary-Jane shoes. "Do I look good? I gotta be cute and everything after all."

"You look wonderful. We'll have to see about getting some pictures," she assured. I beamed a bit brighter.

"Both of you look wonderful." We turned to see Dad standing there with his had tucked under one arm and looking very polished. "Now, we need to get moving. I want to get there a _little_ ahead of time."

"I understand, Roy."

We traveled from the house, locking it behind us, and hailed a cab to the venue. It was actually to be in a private garden under a pavilion and there were other people already there. As part of the wedding party (and because my grandmother was my minder when my father was otherwise occupied) we were shown to where the rest of the wedding party was. Dad diverged off to see Uncle Maes while I and Grandma went to my new Aunt Gracia.

First moment seeing the bride? "You look pretty!" Yay, child instincts. I didn't disagree, though. She _did_ look pretty dressed in all white with delicate lace trim. Her hair wasn't done up that much besides the veil and the pearl pins holding the veil there. Honestly, the woman was pretty. Uncle Maes was lucky.

And at my pronouncement, there were several feminine titters from the various bridesmaids and a pretty blush from the bride.

"Thank you, Dawn," smiled Aunt Gracia.

"So, this is our flower girl?" asked a woman that I didn't think _quite_ compared to the bride.

"Yes," Aunt Gracia replied, smiling at me and my grandmother. "Would you like a seat, Mrs. Edgecombe?"

"I'd like that," agreed Grandma. The chatter that followed basically involved talk of getting appropriately dressed, admiration of men, some idle questions to me (I did choose to politely reply, choosing not to tweak noses), and lots of giggling and laughter.

Grandma sat next to another pair of women that were about her age and, bored, I wandered over. "You've grown quite a lot since I last saw you, Miss Dawn," greeted the one of the strangers. I gave her a puzzled look.

"We've met?" I asked, baffled. She nodded.

"I'm Maes's mother. Remember when your dad graduated from the Academy?" I considered that before nodding and looking to the other woman.

"Who are you?"

"Dawn!" hissed Grandma even as the unknown woman arched a brow. "That's rude." She glanced towards the unknown woman. "I'm so sorry. My granddaughter is rather precocious." She looked to me. "Dawn, this is Gracia's mother, Mrs. Harlow." The identifier in place, I bobbed and offered an innocent smile. "Mrs. Harlow, this is Dawn Mustang."

"Mustang… Any relation to that Hero of Ishval I've heard about? What was his name?" I was wincing already even as Grandma nodded.

"Roy Mustang. Yes. He's my son."

"I thought your last name was Edgecombe?" asked the baffled woman. Grandma's smile turned sad even as she briefly sketched out the situation. Mrs. Harlow seemed to understand and then nodded. "I see. It's not a son by blood but by love."

"Exactly. I couldn't have phrased it better. I don't think… I don't think I would have survived these last few months without him or Dawn."

"Or Uncle Maes," I chipped in cheerily. Mrs. Hughes smiled at that before looking to Grandma.

"We've all been very lucky in the end, I suppose," she offered gently.

"Yes, we have."

.

The wedding went predictably storybook style. That was to say that I got to throw flowers, a surly little boy that was apparently the son of one of Gracia's friends functioned as a ring bearer, and Dad and Uncle Maes's uniforms looked very fancy with their shiny buttons. The bride, my new Aunt Gracia, looked utterly radiant as she came to her soon-to-be husband…

And the kiss after all the vows and whatnot was perfect. Like _storybook_ perfect. I half expected hearts to pop into existence over the newlyweds' heads and birds flying about with banners declaring 'Happily Ever After', it was _that perfect_.

Not even the gagging little boy standing next to me with his empty little pillow could ruin it. I just tore my eyes away from the sappy scene to smile at him with amusement. He gave me a disgusted look. "You'll want that one day," I taunted quietly. He only looked more revolted.

I looked back just in time to see the look of concern on my father's face directed right at me.

.

"You're not allowed to date until you're thirty," Dad told me.

"Are you expecting me to have children any time before I'm _fifty_?" I asked somewhat acerbically.

" _Dawn_ ," he warned me and I sighed. "I saw the look you were giving that boy."

" _Dad_ ," I returned sourly, "I had no intention of kissing him. He was annoying, anyway." He gave me an amused look at that.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. "He was gagging over the kiss and I told him he'd want to kiss girls someday. Besides, I didn't want to annoy you."

"Annoy me? Wait, you mean the other times you kissed boys, you did it _deliberately_?" he demanded. Oops. I gave him a cautious look.

"It was clean fun," I defended.

"That is hardly clean fun," he muttered. I gave him an utterly offended look. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The product he'd used to slick it back broke slightly as he did so. Looking out to the dance floor, I could see a number of people having fun. There was food, drinks, and music. Of course they'd be making merry. And it _was_ rather lively.

Right now, we stood off to one side, mainly because Grandma had been hooked out onto the floor to dance and Dad wanted a word.

"I don't have any intention on turning you into a grandpa before you're thirty. In fact, I don't intend for you to be a grandfather before you turn _forty_." He sighed again, shaking his head.

"Don't talk like that. People might not understand."

"I'm _ten_ ," I objected.

"I know," he murmured, smoothing a hand over my head as I looked up. "Please, Dawn. Stay my little girl for as long as possible?" I stared upwards, considering him, before nodding.

"I… I can try."

"Do. I know you're smart enough to do so." I nodded, looking back out.

"I wish Grandpa was here," I blurted. There was a long moment before he spoke.

"I do, too."

"Dad, I love you."

"I love you, too, Xiao-Hua." He hesitated before going on. "And… please, don't kiss boys." I stared at him for a long moment, and I blurted the first words I could think of.

"Would you rather I kiss girls?"

He sputtered, turning red at my deadpan words, before managing to respond though probably louder than he'd intended. "No!"

Several people turned to him at his explosive retort, causing him to blush more and press a hand to his face. I blushed, too.

.

Gracia Harlow was now Gracia Hughes. We got to enjoy Uncle Maes carrying her out of the hall, the woman in his arms laughing all the while before she tossed away her bouquet to someone in the crowd. I didn't see who, but whoever it was happened to be positively _thrilled_ if the triumphant shriek was anything to go by.

I had been relegated to my grandmother with a firm 'behave', Dad was busy being among the groomsmen, and the party was winding down.

I, on the other hand, was getting bored. Being good was boring to me. I was also getting tired, which left me grumpy.

I was glad when we left, though, and walked with my hands in my dad's and grandmother's. "So, what do you think?" Dad asked.

"I like her." He smiled at my words.

"And?"

"I hope I get a cousin soon!" I chirped.

"I suppose we need to see about having a conversation about the birds and the bees, huh?" Grandma asked drolly. I shrugged. I already knew all of that stuff, cute bywords aside, so I wasn't at all surprised or enthused about how birds and bees related other than 'they both fly?'

Yeah, they both flew. Surprise, surprise.

Thankfully, neither of them realized I knew what birds and bees had to do with one another. It would mean an embarrassing conversation later on, of course, but I wasn't sure who would suffer more: me or the person telling me about sex. Personally, I wanted to have my _own_ little brother or sister but my stubborn, stupid father refused to do something about it. And because of this, I sincerely hoped Uncle Maes and Aunt Gracia would have a child soon. I wanted to do shockingly girly things and one of those things included squealing over how cute a baby was.

If I was exceptionally lucky, I'd get more than one cousin. A silent prayer that there would be less 'birds and bees' and more 'rabbits' involved in the newly wedded couple's future, I listened vaguely to my grandmother's and father's conversation about who would bequeath this 'talk' on me.

I personally agreed with Grandma. Dad needed to be the one to tell me about that stuff. It would be _extremely_ good for him… and hilarious for me. And probably hysterical for Grandma, too, honestly.

So, when we got back to Grandma's, I looked at him curiously with my most innocent and guileless look. "So, what do birds and bees have to do with anything?" Dad blushed and looked at the amused grandmother who was currently not the focus of my attention. "Other than flying?"

"You're not pulling my leg are you?" he asked warily, gaze coming back to me. I blinked and then shook my head 'no'. "You honestly don't know?"

"No," I replied with another negative shake of my head. "Tell me?"

Dad was positively scarlet. "Can't you do this?" he asked of my grandmother. She arched a brow at him.

"Consider it a good refresher course," she replied. "And stop being foolish. Look where you grew up." He sighed wearily before looking to me again.

"Alright… Let's sit down for a little bit before getting back to work." He drew a breath as we settled with various emotions on each our faces. Grandma looked bemused, Dad looked reluctant, and I remained firmly innocent. "So… the Talk."

"About birds and bees?" He stared for a moment, thrown by my question.

"It's a saying to be polite," Dad carefully returned. "It's like saying one thing and meaning something else."

"Like sarcasm?"

"Yes… but not exactly like that. It's like a special code, like how I sometimes write in code to keep other people from knowing what I'm actually saying." I nodded, having seen how his personal notes were written these days. I'd have picked different, personally. "The phrase 'the birds and the bees' basically means what happens when boys and girls love each other." I nodded, still showing my absolutely amazing innocence.

"Like Aunt Gracia and Uncle Maes?"

"Exactly. And it's the exact reason I don't want you to love a boy until you're closer to my age."

"But I love you?" I offered, aiming for sweet and awkward-for-him.

"I mean other boys," he returned before drawing a breath. "Anyway, when a boy and a girl love each other, like Uncle Maes and Aunt Gracia… Well, there's something they do that… can make a baby." I nodded, silently amused by Dad's utter embarrassment.

"What your father is trying to say, Dawn, is that if you do this act that is known as sex, you could wind up pregnant." I had turned to my grandmother at this point, not missing the hint of relief on my dad's face. "And the _reason_ he's trying to warn you about this is because he doesn't want you to be like him and your mother." I felt a bit baffled at that, my mind immediately jumping from sex to death (which was highly disturbing, honestly). Apparently my confusion was easily interpretable, too, and her look sobered further. "And, no, not like your mom exactly but that is a very possible and very real outcome of pregnancy if things go wrong." Dad even looked a bit shamed about that. "You have to understand that there are consequences to the act of… intimacy with a boy. One potential result is becoming pregnant. Another possibility is sexual diseases. The most dangerous outcome could be simply death, whether of the woman or the baby or even both. Many women give birth without issue, though… but it becomes far more dangerous if you're too young."

By this point Dad was looking at his hands. I was shifting uncomfortably myself. Even if I had died, even if I was unafraid of death itself… I didn't want to think about dying again, especially in this manner.

"Do you understand, Dawn? It's not that we don't want you to have a future. We just don't wish you to have to deal with such things _now_ or anytime soon for that matter. Wait at least until you're married to do such things."

"But… Dad didn't?"

"And that was a mistake that he and your mother made," Grandma pointed out. "Don't repeat that mistake. For your sake if not ours." I nodded.

"Okay, Grandma." I looked at my father. "Don't worry, Dad."

"Thanks, Xiao-Hua." He sighed, giving my grandmother a look that she readily met. I was pretty certain this wasn't the end of the conversation… but, then again, I didn't think I wanted to revisit it anytime soon. I had grossly miscalculated when it came to the conversation and I deserved it, honestly. Yes, in any other family the 'sex talk' would have probably been more humorous. Yes, I had forgotten my own mother's death because of her attempt to birth. And the only reason there hadn't been a midwife at my birth was because of two things: my grandmother's attempt to keep the 'family shame' hidden and my grandmother's history of midwifery that, while not extensive, had been experienced.

I know my grandmother felt guilty for having been selfish all those years ago. It was no different than my own guilt over my part in my mother's death. It was also no different than what my father likely felt. We'd all had a hand in Abbigail Edgecombe's death though in vastly different ways.

And I knew I didn't want to revisit the subject of 'the birds and the bees' anytime soon.

.

It was no longer Grandma's house. The things that would be left behind were no longer Grandma's things. The house I'd been born in no longer belonged to my grandmother.

It did, however, now belong to Uncle Maes. He'd made a good offer for it in preparation of marrying Aunt Gracia, wanting to live in a house rather than the barracks. They had been temporarily renting an apartment in the meantime or so I understood, but now they had a new home.

Still, Grandma handed over the keys with some tears. It had been shocking to see the house deprived of familiar furniture, darker places on wallpaper marking where pictures had once hung and where furniture had consistently blocking light for years. Aunt Gracia had hugged the upset woman, assuring her that she was welcome to visit whenever she wished. Uncle Maes had similarly hugged me upon seeing my sober face.

"Don't worry, Rosie," he assured, murmuring into my ear. "We won't be that far away. We can still visit each other." I knew that but still nodded with a murmured 'yes, Uncle Maes'. "And it's not like you don't know where the house is." I nodded, looking at him with a smile as he let me go.

"I know," I replied. Then I smirked. "So, am I going to get a cousin anytime soon?" Instantly, the man turned crimson, glancing towards his bride. He then became redder, his flush going down his neck as he looked back to me with very wide eyes.

"I… would like you to have a cousin?" he said slowly, voice rising in pitch towards the end to sound _extremely_ questioning. I grinned. "You know about how that happens?" he asked cautiously. I nodded.

"Got the talk last night," I grinned. "Birds and bees and stuff. I don't get that phrase, Uncle Maes, but… they say it relates to that." Thankfully, I'd not attracted further…

Never mind. Everyone was staring at me with red faces and somewhat horrified looks. "Time to go," Dad said firmly. I was grabbed by the shoulder.

"Right," offered Uncle Maes as he straightened. Then he coughed pointedly into one fist. "Do you think it's right to tell her that sort of thing at _this_ age?"

"Do you think she wouldn't figure it out for herself if I didn't?" Dad snorted, glancing at the scarlet Aunt Gracia. I was pushed down the road.

"Bye, Uncle Maes!" I called over my shoulder. "Bye, Aunt Gracia!"

"Stay out of trouble, Rosie!" Uncle Maes called after me.

"We'll try to make sure she does," Dad grunted, clearly annoyed. I still grinned, glad for the foolishness. It had helped loads.

Unfortunately, my ear didn't appreciate it once Grandma recovered well enough to grab it.

.

Grandma's new home was quite a bit smaller than the old one. It had two bedrooms, one that was hers and one that functioned both as a guest and sewing room. Her living area was much smaller, barely enough to fit a couch and two chairs. One of those chairs had been Grandpa's, one she'd refused to sell. There was a smaller bathroom, barely fitting a shower, toilet, and sink. There was a small kitchen with all the necessary appliances and even a small place to eat at in the kitchen. Finally, there was a cramped corner for a dining table just large enough for four places.

When we arrived, Aunt Riza and Mr. Breda had already spent some time organizing where the furniture would go. Aunt Riza had cited she tried to make the best fitting layout possible to Grandma. Grandma didn't see anything wrong despite the apologies and Dad encouraged us all to go for dinner rather than try to cook something as most things were still quite packed away.

"My treat," he tendered, ensuring that his aide and the potbellied man were included on that offer.

"Are you sure?" Mr. Breda asked, bemused. He'd already scored a few points with Grandma by outrageously flattering her, saying she was beautiful and that he'd love to have a date with her. Of course, she turned him down but not without a rosy blush.

"Yes," Dad snorted. "I don't think we want to hunt down Sarah's pots and pans." He then considered that before adding, "And then expect her to cook."

"Thank you, Roy," Grandma drawled, looking at him in amusement. "Well, where will we go eat?"

"There's a great place down the road," Mr. Breda immediately offered, earning a long look from Dad. "It offers hamburgers," he hedged carefully, almost turning it into an almost-question. Everyone was looking at him at this point.

"Burgers sound good," I spoke up, grinning at Dad.

"I'm sure they do," he grumped. "If it's what your grandma wants, that's what we'll have." He looked at Grandma. "What do you say?"

"Sounds fine to me," Grandma smiled. "Shall we get going?"

"Of course."

We all went together despite the fact Aunt Riza tried to duck out. It didn't work too well, Dad setting me on her. I figured it was because he didn't want her to run off and get out of a 'thank you' for helping Grandma.

Simply put, Aunt Riza's fingers were found and I gripped her hand and Grandma's and refused to let go of either once we got out onto the street. The chatter was general, most of it not aimed in my direction, and I listened while Dad and Mr. Breda fobbed comments off of each other, clearly joking, as Grandma and Aunt Riza chattered about more womanly things. I just listened, keeping Aunt Riza there. That was all I was required to do.

And that evening? It was awesome.

.

Over the next few weeks, Grandma sorted out her new apartment (with help from myself and Dad when we were available) and got a job. It wasn't much of a job, though, but it _was_ something to do during the day to ensure she had money coming in. It was a job at the local greengrocer not a block away from her chosen abode. I sometimes went to visit her during the evenings, Dad coming by to pick me up and eat dinner with her. She came over to our apartment most of the other nights.

That being said, it wasn't all inconsequential things going on. Despite the fact that Grandma had turned him down, Mr. Breda did come by often to check on her and managed to wheedle things out of her kitchen whenever she was at home. She thought he was hilarious, which annoyed Dad a little.

It still didn't change everything, though. "Grandma?" I watched as her breath hitched in surprise, and she wiped at her eyes with one hand.

"Y-yes, Dawn?" she asked, turning to smile at me. It was weak, wavering, and so close to faltering.

"My homework's done," I advised, searching her face. Then my eyes went to what she held. Grandma had sold off and given away most of Grandpa's things after his death. She had kept some few things that she adored, namely the flat cap he had commonly wore to and from work. That thing was one of those things she hated, often trying to get him to switch to a trilby that he never wore.

The trilby had been sold. The flat cap had stayed alongside his favorite coat.

"That's good," she smiled, laying aside the hat. I walked forward, eyes fixed to the classic 'newsboy cap' before looking up again.

"It's okay to cry," I assured. She looked at me, clearly startled by my words. "Just… not forever." And like that, she had me hooked into her arms and hugged close, fresh tears falling. I couldn't do much considering she had a hand securing my head in place and I had little wiggle room otherwise. I just stayed still as she cried and felt my own tears come on as sadness overrode my efforts to be supportive.

My father came in to two tear-stained females (though neither of us were crying by that point) and cautiously took us in before coming closer. "What happened?"

"Nothing, dear," dismissed Grandma as I began to pack my things to go home.

"You both have been crying." Grandma wheeled on him.

"You're being unnaturally observant this evening," she returned. Dad flushed.

"I'm something of a scientist, Sarah." She snorted and returned to her work.

"We cried over losing Grandpa again," I replied calmly, the cry having purged some of those ambivalent feelings that had hung on. Grandma gave me an annoyed look as Dad considered that and then nodded.

"I understand. I miss him, too." He hesitated, glancing towards my grandmother. "I've missed having parents… and I got that when I got you, Dawn." By this point, he was looking back at me again and I smiled. Grandma looked a bit flattered by his words and then embarrassed by her comments she'd made. "Love you, too, Sarah," he told her upon seeing her reaction.

"You fool," she blustered only to squawk as he hooked an arm around her and hugged her close. She did return his gesture, naturally, and I joined in the hug, laughing. "I love you, too. Both of you," she murmured, hugging us both tight.

"So, will Breda be joining us this evening?" he asked, smirking down at her. He yelped as she swatted at him.

"Roy Mustang!" she fussed. "Why must you make it out like I am dating that man?!"

"Because you two are clearly friends," he snorted. "He's not a boyfriend, but he is a friend to you." Grandma flushed again and clicked her tongue as she pulled free and went back to the dinner she'd been preparing.

"No, he's not visiting tonight."

"Any of my other subordinates you've decided to adopt?" he asked curiously.

"I've been tempted to take on that Riza of yours," she returned snidely. "Considering you don't ask that woman to quit the military, I might as well adopt her, too." Dad flushed crimson, eyes wide.

"Sarah!"

"Yes, Roy?" she challenged. "Dawn, set out the plates."

"Between you and Dawn, I _swear_ ," he groused.

"Roy, you're an idiot. And, apparently, so is Riza."

I chipped in with a cheery, "Told you!"

-/-/-/-

Thank you for reading. **Please review.**


	15. In Which He Becomes Afraid

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Reviews: Just prefacing all of this with an 'I love you'. I love you guys for reviewing because, honestly, nothing makes me more gleeful than seeing an email headed with 'review' in my inbox. Especially as you all give very positive and kind reviews to me, which in turn encourages me to write more.

That being said, I do have a response or two to give.

In reference to the Elrics, they are going to be introduced in this chapter on an oblique. Have you ever wondered how Mustang might have reacted to their situation? Now you have my theorization at least in part.

In reference to Grumman and Hawkeye, yes, I'm aware of their relationship. Unfortunately for anticipatory readers, it won't be brought into the story for some time. It will be a fun plot device, because I can already see how Dawn reacts to finding out about his relationship to Hawkeye.

In reference to my ego, please keep stroking it. It purrs. Like a cat. On the flipside, if you have suggestions, please voice them in review or PM. It might give me an idea for further down the line or even an outtake.

Finally, be aware I tried several different ways to upload a new chapter. It refused to _repeatedly_. I inventively had the idea of saving over a previously uploaded document. So, keep that in mind if you have your own uploads being difficult.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 15: In Which He Becomes Afraid

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Dad got an assignment to go east to some tiny town not long after the wedding. He didn't talk much about it beyond telling me to stay with my grandma and telling my grandmother that he'd be gone for a day and maybe a night, too, depending on train schedules and how caught up he got. Then he left. He'd done similar trips when told to in the past and he was taking Aunt Riza with him again so I didn't think too much about it.

When he came home, though, I knew something had happened. The first thing he did when he laid eyes on me after I came through Grandma's door was come to me immediately, dropped to his knees, and hugged me close. He hugged me so tightly my ribs _ached_ from the pressure, and I could smell the bit of alcohol on his breath. Grandma looked worried, possibly not understanding why he was reacting like he was, but my father just knelt there on the carpet and hugged me like I was going to vanish on him.

"Dad?" I asked cautiously. "You're hurting me."

"Promise me, Dawn." He loosened his grip to grasp me by the shoulders and stare at me square in the eyes. " _Promise me_ that you will _never_ try to resurrect _anyone_." I looked at him, baffled.

"What do you mean?" His eyes were haunted, almost as haunted as they'd been just after Ishval, and I worried at the look in them.

"Do not _ever_ try to use alchemy to try and bring back the dead."

"Roy? What's going on?" Grandma demanded.

"I don't care if it's me or your grandmother or your grandfather. I don't care _who_ you think to try and bring back. _Don't_." This was honestly frightening me and I numbly nodded.

"I won't." My reply was soft, almost unheard, but Dad _did_ hear it and hugged me again.

"Roy, talk to me," Grandma pressed. He looked up to her, still keeping me clasped in place, as she came into his line of sight. "What happened?" she asked pleadingly. "Tell me." There was a long moment I wasn't certain what would happen. Dad was silent and he looked at me with thoughtfulness that said he was very seriously contemplating sending me into another room so that he could talk to her freely. Then his gaze shifted and his shoulders sagged. I felt the weight of his arms as he suddenly seemed to collapse inward emotionally, his limbs becoming deadweight as a result though his fingers retained their grip.

"I… I was told that there were two exceptional alchemists around thirty years old in a town out east in Resembool." I didn't get where this was going. "And I went to propose recruitment into the State Alchemist program. I… I had gone mainly because I was ordered." He looked at me, gaze turning haunted. "They weren't thirty." His voice hitched as he spoke. "The brothers were just children Dawn's age." My eyes widened as clarity slammed into me like a sledgehammer and I gasped. Grandma was listening attentively. "But I didn't see them first. I went to their house. The door wasn't locked. I'll admit I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have just _entered_ but I just had a feeling I should open the door and go inside. Immediately, I saw a blood trail, going to or from the door I didn't know." His gaze begged me to listen closely. His voice ached with dark, deep emotion. "So I entered to investigate and searched the house. It was empty. But the blood trail… Hawkeye and I followed it down into a basement… where there was so much _blood_."

"Roy, come sit." Grandma was prying him away from me, forcing him over to the couch. He went reluctantly but didn't fight her about it. I followed, gaze never wavering from him though I noticed the glass of alcohol near at hand. "And, please, keep going."

"The blood," he continued hollowly, "was all over the basement floor. I didn't know… what it came from but I could see some of the marks on the floor. It was a transmutation circle, an incredibly _advanced_ one. I couldn't decipher all of it, I couldn't even _see_ all of it, but what I could see told me that it was for human transmutation." He shuddered.

"And the boys you talked about?" pressed Grandma.

"I asked where they might be and our guide told me next door if they weren't at the house. I went there and found…" He halted, briefly caught up in memories. "I only saw one boy at first. He was sitting in a wheelchair, his arm and leg _gone_." Grandma gasped as I listened with quiet horror. "I… I couldn't help but see Dawn sitting there and it scared me more than I really want to admit." He looked up at her. "Sarah, his eyes were _dead_. Devoid of… of life, passion… He looked like some of those that had survived Ishval. He had suffered a horrible terror. His shirtsleeve was _flat_. His leg was gone to the _knee_." I fisted fingers into my skirt. That had to be the one called 'Fullmetal', the reason for the series.

"And the other one?" asked Grandma. Dad's gaze turned a little hollower as he recalled it. "Roy?"

"His brother… had… I don't know how it happened, but… I knew immediately upon seeing it." He took a moment to compose himself. "The boy had been terribly injured, I think. I'm not sure what happened other than the fact that the boy wasn't _physically_ there. He had been somehow _bound_ to this _massive_ suit of armor. It looked like some kind of display piece, it was even jointed, but there was no way the boy could have manipulated it on his own. Not at _ten_."

"What are you saying?" Grandma pressed as I just stared, mostly-forgotten memories making a point to intrude upon my thoughts.

"I don't know where his body was, but I could tell that his soul was all that was manipulating that armor," he said soberly.

"That's ridiculous!" she protested. I stayed silent. "You're saying something _impossible_ , Roy. I've never heard anything like this before!"

"Neither have I, but I've _never_ thought to use alchemy to that degree, either!" he retorted. "I don't know _what's_ possible if you're willing to go far enough! And that's what was so upsetting! Edward Elric is only _eleven years old_ , Sarah. Alphonse Elric, his younger brother, is _ten_. He's _Dawn's_ _age_!"

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Grandma challenged. "You have no say in those boys' lives," she prompted, possibly choosing to step past the whole 'impossible' part of the conversation. I was too busy thinking 'Alphonse? Really?' to really notice. "Or are you going to report this to your superiors?"

"No, I'm not," he said instantly. "I'm not telling them _anything_ about this. The younger brother would be hauled off to a _laboratory_ to be _studied_." He snorted. "It's not exactly _illegal_ to do human transmutation when you're not attached to the military, but it's extremely taboo for a reason. It's very difficult if not downright impossible. It's a miracle those boys survived the rebound as it is." He took a moment before adding, "Besides, I've already done all that I can."

"Oh?"

"I… offered the chance for them to join the military." He caught Grandma's affronted look. "Not that I think they'll be able to join. The minimum age of enlistment is sixteen. They're a good five to six years too short."

"But you still offered it," Grandma protested.

"Of course I did," he snorted derisively. "Sarah, you have no idea how just telling them about the State Alchemist Program _changed_ the elder boy. He didn't look nearly so dead by the end of the spiel." He sighed. "Not that I didn't get an earful already from the Lieutenant, but she understood the effect once I pointed it out."

"And these children's family?"

"Their mother was the person they tried to bring back," Dad told her soberly. "I don't know what happened to their father. Their grandmother was, I gather, more of a long-time family friend. There was a girl but I don't know how close they are to her."

"They must have missed her very much." My words, though absent and a bit soft, immediately garnered attention. Realizing that I had their attention, I ducked my head. "The boys. They must have loved her very much to try something so dangerous."

"Yes, I suppose so," Dad agreed. "But I don't want you _ever_ trying to do anything like that."

"I wouldn't even know where to _start_ ," I protested. Hell, for all my advancement, I was still mediocre when it came to alchemy!

"Promise me, Dawn," he returned. "Promise me you'll not do _anything_ concerning human transmutation."

"I won't. I promise." I could see this honestly mattered to him and I couldn't deny his wishes. Not that I'd ever _thought_ to reverse death. In all actuality, it seemed very foolish to try to bring someone back to life and hope they don't come back a zombie or some kind of monster in general. That was like trying to play god or that monster-making guy from that old story. The promise clearly helped Dad a good deal because he relaxed back into his seat, running a hand through his hair. "What do you think they'll do now?"

"What?"

"The boys," I went on. "What do you think they'll do now?"

"I'm not sure," Dad admitted. "I'll see about checking on them to make sure they're alright, but… I don't know how much I'll be able to learn from secondhand sources."

"Do you think they'll try to join the military with your ridiculous offer?" Grandma asked, sitting next to her informally-adopted son.

"Possibly," he responded. "I don't think either would be able to make the military, though. After all, the younger one is an animated suit of armor and the elder one… Well, the Rockbells are automail mechanics."

"Rockbells?"

"The next door neighbors," Dad explained to her.

"Wasn't 'Rockbell' the name of those doctors that spent so long out in the war? The humanitarian ones?" Grandma asked incredulously. Dad paused at that before his eyes widened.

"It was," he agreed. "But they were a doctor couple, not an old woman and a…" He stopped, grimaced, and then sighed wearily. "Of course, it could be that the old woman is the mother and the girl is an orphaned child." Grandma hissed as I winced. "I don't think any parents of the girl were present."

"Nothing good came out of that conflict," she muttered darkly, glancing at me.

"I know. Besides, what I was saying about the boy? I know he could be fitted for either normal prosthetics or the more advanced automail that has been developed in light of that… conflict."

"What if they come to try?" I asked.

"They will probably be sent home. At best, they will be assessed," Dad assured me. I think he even believed it.

But I knew something would set that plan on its ear and I didn't know how to explain what I knew without leaving humongous, gaping holes of logic I couldn't even begin to cross. It was ludicrous I could vaguely remember another life. It was obvious that most of the time, no one even recalled I knew other things. Then again, I was willing to leave the subject alone and not call attention to it.

Still, my father had met the boys I had so vaguely recalled. It had _happened_. And that meant that, sooner or later, Edward Elric would become tied to the military… or so I assumed. For Dad's peace of mind, I hoped not. For my own curiosity, I hoped to meet the brothers. For my vague, vague knowledge of the future? I already guessed that one if not both brothers would become State Alchemists.

The only question left was if they'd come to test… and if they'd go to Dad first or bypass him and go right to Central.

.

"C'mon, Dawn," encouraged Mr. Breda as I struggled to beat him at a chess match. "I know you can do it." It had been relatively quick summer and autumn and things were now progressing to winter. It was one of those extremely rare days that, somehow, I'd gone to see my grandmother only to find Mr. Breda visiting with the woman. It was rather amusing that he'd gotten to be more Grandma's friend more than Dad's despite the fact that he interacted with Dad more. The issue about the two boys had faded into the background, the topic never discussed in hearing distance of me by my father, and I let him do so. It wasn't important enough to press. Either those boys would come along or they wouldn't and I couldn't influence that in either direction.

As of the current situation, Mr. Breda was teaching me how to play chess. Apparently chess was a major pastime in the Eastern Command, mainly due to the head of that command enjoying the game and challenging people to play against him. Dad had been one of those that had gotten caught in the crosshairs by the man and was now learning himself. Breda, who had a passing interest to begin with, was eager to teach logic and problem-solving techniques to a miniature alchemist. The chess set we were using was actually one I'd taken painstaking effort to transmute piece by piece because it had been considered a good practice by my father. Then it had been given to Grandma, who more commonly used it as a centerpiece than a game.

"I'm thinking," I complained crossly.

"If you don't move soon, we'll have to leave the game as it is," he pointed out. I pouted, arms folded over my chest. "C'mon, Dawn." I had slowly come to adore the large man with the pleasant disposition and a love of strategy games. He also had a very bad case of cynophobia because the few times he'd encountered the neighbor's dog, he had all the signs of downright crippling terror. And the dog, a relatively small dog at that, barked at him because it sensed the fear he had… which just made Mr. Breda's fear worse.

"I'm _thinking_ ," I reiterated.

"You two don't fight."

"Of course, Mrs. Sarah," Mr. Breda responded even though we weren't actually fighting. I finally decided on a move, shifting a pawn into what I hoped was a good position, and released the piece. I knew then that I wouldn't be able to take it back because that was one of the rules we had. I could move around any pieces I wished so long as I didn't release them and returned then to their original spots. The same went for Mr. Breda but he usually didn't take advantage of that like I did. "You sure about that?"

"A little late for a takeback," I sulked. Honestly, I hoped he'd take the bait because his queen was in a great position to snatch it and get a good opening at my king and I had a sneaky knight flanking the pawn. I was losing badly, but I wanted at least to get the most powerful piece of the game.

"True," he chuckled as Grandma set out a plate of cucumber spears with salt next to our chessboard. He absently grabbed one as he inspected the layout of pieces with a critical eye. I took one of the snacks, too, and munched noisily (there was no proper way to keep from making crunching sounds) as he selected a piece and moved it. "I saw what you were trying to do, Dawn," he smirked slightly before biting his own snack.

"Do you need more to drink, Dawn? Heymans?" While Mr. Breda still applied a 'Missus' to her first name after getting permission to _use_ said first name, Grandma just used his first name freely once she'd gotten permission from him. Honestly, I didn't even know where 'Heymans' came from. I didn't know what culture or ethnicity it came from and I didn't even know what it _meant_.

"Mr. Breda?" I asked, interrupting his deferral on getting more water. He looked at me in curiosity. "What does 'Heymans' mean?" I saw his expression flicker from surprise to curiosity to thoughtfulness.

"I honestly don't know. I was named after my grandfather, though." I thought about it even as he shrugged. "I don't know, Dawn. It's not something I've thought too much about before. I just accepted it as my grandfather's name." Grandma's look was curious as well even as I spoke again.

"It sounds more like a… a surname instead of a given name."

"True," he agreed. "Maybe I'll look it up just to satisfy _my_ curiosity."

"Will you tell me if you find out?"

"Sure." This was accompanied by a reach of a hand and a ruffling of my hair. I smiled, ducking my head under the pressure, and he chuckled slightly as he pulled back. "So, it's getting late. I probably need to get moving on."

"Alright, Heymans," Grandma immediately assented as he stood up. She hadn't moved off when I had started my questioning. She'd not left probably because she was worried I'd be rude. I hadn't been, mostly because there'd been nothing to be rude about. "Have a safe trip home."

"But… we didn't finish!" I complained, bouncing to my feet.

"It's alright. We'll just leave it until next time. Don't move the pieces, though." I snorted. Like I would. I didn't want to cheat in order to win… even if it _was_ mildly tempting. One more muss to my hair and he was moving to the door. I looked after him.

"Baby girl?" I looked to my grandmother.

"Yes, ma'am?" She apparently had no question to put to me but instead hugged me close.

"Love you, my dear girl," she murmured.

.

Mr. Breda wasn't the only person I found myself talking to and growing closer to among the men my father had hired. He had managed, somehow, to select four men (and one woman) that were all incredibly _decent_ people. The rare times I visited the Command usually came with being harassed by Mr. Havoc, who took a lot of amusement in gently teasing me. He didn't dare do more with Dad _and_ Aunt Riza there of course, but there certainly wasn't any cruelty in his actions. He also dated a lot, usually talking about a different girlfriend each time I met him, and sometimes even said that Dad stole his girlfriends. From my understanding, Mr. Havoc was like my father in the fact he liked women. He also apparently picked women who were more interested in status than him as an individual and therefore gravitated towards Dad when he gave them a generally meaningless smile. Personally, I didn't like Mr. Havoc as much as the others but he was fun and fun to tease back. Mr. Fuery was the complete opposite, of course, and he was so sweet it made my teeth hurt. Well, perhaps not _literally_ made my teeth hurt… but Kain Fuery was the pure definition of 'a good Samaritan'.

Interestingly, that phrase was something identical in both of my lives though I didn't know the origin of that word _here_.

Anyway, the man loved to help people, hardly had an ill word for anyone, and seemed refreshingly pure compared to most other military people. He'd avoided combat, I'd learned along the way, due to his amazing ability to fix various basic electric devices (namely communications gear and relays). He had family in another part of the country and sometimes went to go visit them even though he had to ride a train to do so. Finally, Mr. Falman was someone who had clearly gone through the 'precocious child' stage with his own children and definitely had the sense of a father about him when he talked to me. He was also very particular and fussy, something that was very different from my father.

They weren't the only ones I interacted with. Mr. Breda was fun and so was Aunt Riza. She loosened up a lot when not in a strict work environment and always had a smile to spare for me no matter where we were.

The final person that I found myself interacting with was technically my Dad's immediate commanding officer (though technically the Fuhrer was his actual commanding officer).

"So, this is the famous Miss Dawn Mustang." I looked up at my name, surprised, as the man who had asked my father to bring me in spoke. He wasn't very tall, in fact he was shockingly short and only a little taller than me, and had frizzy gray hair. He also had a bald spot, round little glasses perched on his nose, and an extraordinarily sharp gaze as he looked at me in interest.

"Yes, sir," Dad agreed. I had a feeling I'd missed the first part of the conversation but, then again, I'd been nose-first in the book I'd gotten from Mr. Van as I was done with my homework. "Dawn, this is Lieutenant General Grumman. Sir, this is my daughter, Dawn."

I immediately closed my book and came over with an outstretched hand. I was only ten, too small to be anything other than a child, but I nearly reached his height already. He took it, shaking it with the bemused seriousness of an adult. "Nice to meet you, sir," I voiced, giving my best smile that I hoped wouldn't look too foolish. Closer to him, I could smell that distinct 'old person' smell and a whiff of his cologne. I could also ascertain the old man wasn't anywhere near 'fragile' or 'weak'. His grip on my hand was gentle but hardly weak.

"Nice to meet you, too, Miss Dawn." He shot my father a sly look as he released my hand. "She'll be a beautiful woman when she's grown. You should be proud." Dad's eyes flashed at the words and I registered that the old man before me was no man at all. He was a fox, cunning and sly.

And he had Dad's attention now that he had made that comment though Dad visibly controlled himself. "Thank you, sir, and I am." I'm pretty sure the Lieutenant General saw it because he smiled, I certainly saw the vague disapproval on Aunt Riza's face right out of the line of sight of said old man, and everyone else was industriously working to keep from attracting the man's attention though I knew they were listening intently.

"Perhaps you know how to play chess, little one?" he asked of me. I nodded, seeing no need to lie. "Maybe you'll play a game with me sometime."

"Dad told me you were really good. I don't think you'd find me a challenge." He laughed outright at that.

"Perhaps not!" he chuckled, grinning brightly at my comments. "But it'd be a good game, I'd like to think." Dad didn't look horribly thrilled at that.

"I'm still learning. I'm not very good at all… so maybe someday, sir. But not anytime soon."

Grumman's expression hardly changed as he obviously realized I was tracking my father's temperature during my conversation with him. He nodded and allowed me a tiny victory… before harassing my father further. The man seemed to enjoy annoying my father. I just hoped he wouldn't be mad that I hadn't wanted to play chess with him.

.

Despite having grown older, I was still a sucker for having my hair brushed. And Dad, of course, was hardly opposed to brushing that hair. It was one of our nightly rituals, one he tried to maintain despite a busier schedule. My hair had been trimmed several times over my life, of course, but it fell down past my butt now, which at times became inconvenient as I could and often _did_ sit on it if it was undone. And, if not tucked behind my ears, often fell into my face. Thankfully, my bangs were of a similar length to the rest of my hair and therefore were rarely untucked.

"I'm to be promoted soon." My lazy daydream was cut short as I turned to look at him.

"You are?" I asked in amazement. "But isn't that fast?" He shrugged.

"I'm not certain," he mused. "I have worked hard, and Grumman put in a request. Apparently, it was approved. And I won't be the only one promoted."

"Oh?" He reached to cuddle me close, tucking me into his arms. I willingly burrowed, still thankful he was there and so loving.

"Yes. The rest of my people will be promoted, too."

"Are you going to have a party?" I wondered, thinking about a dress and a cake and possibly drinking as that was an adult thing to do. He chuckled, fingering my hair. Lately, it seemed he'd been even busier and our moments together were all the more precious for it. He hadn't explained what was going on other than 'business', but 'business' was so vague that it wasn't even funny. He almost seemed _ashamed_ about it.

"Possibly," he mused. "I don't know if it would include you, though." I pouted. "Don't do that," he complained.

"Do I get to go?" I perked up.

"Probably not." My frown came to the fore again. "Xiao-Hua," he sighed. "You should know by now that doesn't always work."

"It does about eighty percent of the time," I replied, a little annoyed. "I've missed being with you."

"I know," he agreed. "I've not… I've not had a lot of time lately to spend with you, have I?" I hummed, snuggling down in his arms once again. He willingly enveloped me, cuddling me close. "One day, though, you won't want to spend time with me," Dad mused. "One day… you'll want to go be with your friends more than me. Or a special boy." I remained silent, thinking about his words. "Or even a special girl," he added wryly. "I don't know… and I won't judge either way."

"Maybe by then, you'll… have someone, too?" I asked, looking up. "Maybe Aunt Riza?" He blushed at that. Honestly _blushed_. And then he shoved me off of him, causing me to flop to the bed with a yip of surprise.

"Hey!" I shouted, shoving up again.

"You know better than to say that," he scolded.

"Oh, come on!" I complained.

"You've not bothered her about this, have you?" he demanded, shoving me down again. I howled with annoyance, suddenly angry about my smaller body. I was _ten_ for crying out loud. I couldn't compete against a twenty-six-year-old man.

"No!" I managed to get out right before fingers attacked me. "Dad!"

"Don't bother her," he commanded, not desisting one bit as I helplessly laughed.

"I wasn't!" I whined between laughs.

"Good." He let up and I panted for a few moments before looking at him with bemusement.

"You should, though."

"Dawn!"

"I'm serious," I retorted. "She loves you, Dad. And I want to have siblings sooner rather than _later_." He scowled at me as I pushed up. Yet, despite his look, he _was_ blushing. Unfortunately, he wasn't apparently interested in replying or possibly even dignifying my words with a response. Seeing as he was such a fool, I wondered if there was a way to intervene without offending them both. If only I could, I don't know, _lock them both in a closet_. "You're not supposed to be alone," I whispered, averting my gaze.

"Dawn," he sighed. "Please stop bringing it up."

"I wish you'd get serious about _her_."

"Do you want a spanking?" I looked at him, for once not shying from punishment or being a sassy girl and getting whacked on principle. And then, after a long and very purposefully intent gaze, I averted my eyes. I didn't even say a word.

And after he was apparently satisfied I wasn't going to press the issue, he hugged me goodnight. I didn't hug him back. He looked at me very confused as I just didn't respond. Then he sighed. "I know what you want. It just can't happen." He then left me on my bed alone, going to the door.

"No, Dad," I replied quietly, making him pause. "You just don't want it to."

"Goodnight, Dawn," he said, not even responding to my statement. The door clicked shut behind me, but I didn't twitch. I just looked out the window, a frown on my lips. My fingers tightened into my skirt hem as I fought against a burning of tears. Aunt Riza and Dad would make a great couple. I wanted to have a mom. I'd not had one in this life. I couldn't remember what it was like to have a mother in my previous life. Grandma wasn't enough. Grandma might even move on as she was young enough to do so, if only for companionship. Breda filled that niche a little, but it wasn't a cure-all.

Dad was alone… and the one woman he desired was one he refused to be with.

I worried at my lip, thinking. Then I set about settling down for the night and resolved to talk to Aunt Riza. It was meddling, no doubt, but… Maybe. Just maybe…

.

"Aunt Riza?" It had been a deliberate staging and it had been fortunate that I'd snagged her at all on her day off while I also had a weekend.

"Yes, Dawn?" We were currently in her cozy little apartment and I knew outside the walls of this place, autumn had long ago encroached.

"I don't know what to do." She turned from the kettle she'd just settled on the stove and looked at me with curiosity.

"About?"

"Dad." She blinked, worry showing on her face.

"What's wrong?" I stared at her for a moment, trying to formulate the words.

"He's alone. And he… I…" I faltered, looking down at my hands on the table. "He's so _stubborn_."

"Yes," she agreed slowly, eyes keen. "I take it you two had an argument again?" I nodded. "About me?" I looked up, sober.

"Yeah. I know… I know you're his subordinate, but… You two love each other and… and I want a _mom_." The tears were returning, eyes burning as they hovered unshed on my eyelids. And I certainly didn't speak up, so it wound up lending an ache to the words. "I don't… know what having a mom is like." Not anymore. Her eyes gentled and she came over, settling in the chair next to mine. Next thing I knew, she had me wrapped in her arms and snuggled close.

I didn't mean to, but the emotions just burbled up. I felt all the frustration and wishing and the unnamable emotions I couldn't quite finger swirl up inside and break out into a sudden bout of tears. I sobbed all over her as she held me, smoothing a hand over my head. And I have no idea how _long_ I cried. But, by the end of it, the kettle was _definitely_ whistling.

"Want some tea?" she asked, face partially unreadable but her eyes understanding. I silently nodded. A few minutes later, there was a cup of tea before me with melting sugar cubes in it. I fiddled with the rim of the teacup as she sat down next to me once more but I didn't look at her. I felt gritty-eyed and my nose was stuffy. "After my mother died," she said, "I didn't want another mother." I looked up, confused. "But," she added, "I remembered my mother and I knew she couldn't be replaced easily in my life." She drew a breath before going on. "But, as I grew older, I remember wishing for my mother. If only to have someone to talk to and ask advice of." Then she gave me a sad smile. "I do understand, Dawn."

There was a large 'but' hanging there between us and I looked to my teacup again, aware it was cooling into tepidity. "But… it doesn't matter, does it?" I heard the bitterness in my voice.

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter that I want a mom. It doesn't matter that…" I broke off, feeling the tightness in my throat again, but I pressed forward, glaring at the suddenly blurry cup. "It doesn't matter." I hadn't realized how much this entire topic had affected me. "Because I'm just a kid and I don't know _anything_."

"Oh, Dawn," she sighed.

"I'm sorry." The blurriness in my eyes hadn't vanished and I still was angry and hurt by this casual cruelty in my life, but I still apologized. I guess it was because I was being selfish and had, foolishly, fixated on a possibility that wouldn't ever be fulfilled. Dad had told me to stop pushing the matter, but… I hadn't listened. Now I was hurting and no one would change anything.

The teacup vanished from my immediate line of sight and Aunt Riza urged me up. "Come on." Her voice was still gentle and she guided me over to her couch.

I didn't know how long I spent sitting next to her, hugged close to her side. I found myself somewhat bitterly wondering if this was what it was like to be held by a mother, but it was comforting. Eventually, though, Dad returned from his own errands and by then I'd finally been put back together enough to pretend I was fine. Of course, I wasn't directly present when he arrived. Naturally.

Getting ready to exit the bathroom, I overheard a furtive and hushed conversation coming through the vent now that I was no longer preoccupied with relieving myself. "…know better by now!"

"Sir, I understand where she's coming from."

"You can't tell me you're _agreeing_ to all this? What about your promise?" I blinked at that.

"I…" Aunt Riza hesitated as I hovered just behind the door and near that oh-so convenient vent. "I can't help but feel sorry for her." There was a long pause. Dad gave a weary sigh. "Sir."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "Between Dawn and my own feelings, it's very hard to keep control of the situation." My eyes widened at that admission. "And there are days I regret offering the military as a path for you." Another silence fell and I tried to imagine what they were communicating without words.

"There are days I regret taking that path, too," she replied finally. And it honestly sounded like she felt that way. "But we need to remain above reproach for now." There was a resolve in her tone and I blinked again.

"I love it when you look like that."

"Lieutenant Colonel!" barked Aunt Riza in response to Dad's fondly bemused words.

"I apologize." But he'd not stopped sounding amused. "Dawn has no idea of the truth, though. It's going to be hard, but perhaps it's for the best."

"And if she keeps pushing? Perhaps telling her something?" There was a long moment and I realized I'd been lingering too long. Hurriedly flushing, I heard more talking but it was mostly wiped out by the toilet water. I quickly washed up and exited before finding the two looking at each other and then turning to me in near unison.

"Did you fall in?" Dad drawled. I turned pink at that, shifting.

"No."

"Good." There was a vague wistfulness to him, a slight smile that wasn't quite mocking nor was it particularly happy, and I wondered if he was upset or not. I guessed he was, but whether or not he'd be upset with me? I didn't know. The conversation hinted that I wouldn't be in trouble, but adults could be strange… especially after what I heard. "Let's go home." He looked to Aunt Riza. "Thank you for looking after her today. Have a good evening."

"Of course, sir. And it was no trouble." If I'd not listened in, I'd have assumed neither had spoken of what I'd divulged amid tears. Still, I was intelligent enough to say I'd not tell them I'd heard what I did.

So, we left and I walked along, aware that there was a strange silence between us. It persisted until we got home, to which there was Grandma waiting for us with the smell of dinner in the air. "Dawn, we need to talk." I looked up, still a bit wrung out from the day's crying, so I wasn't terribly upset though still a touch apprehensive.

"What happened?" Grandma asked.

"Nothing, nothing," he assured, guiding me to my room. "It's just something to do with growing up." She didn't seem appeased. "It won't take long, I promise."

"Very well. Dinner's almost done."

Before I knew it, I was sitting and looking at my father, who was sitting at my desk chair and looking right back at me. His gaze was penetrating as he considered me. I shifted uncomfortably. "I know what you want, Dawn," he started simply. "I know you want a mom." I looked down, silent. "This has been the conversation of years and, no matter what I say or do, you're always pushing." My fingers were currently interlaced and I had the urge to twiddle my thumbs. "Not that it's wrong. Please, look at me when I speak to you."

I looked up warily. "Yes, sir." Still, my eyes darted away even as I fought to look at him. There was no guile in this because I sincerely didn't know what he was thinking or where this would go.

"I do still love Hawkeye. You have no idea how hard it is to force myself to think of her as anything other than 'Riza'." His words were gentle, thankfully, but in some ways it only made it harder. "And, had I not been so foolish and prideful at her father's death, she would have been your mother by now." I looked up at him at that, amazed at the honesty. He smiled, seeing my surprise, but it was a sad smile.

"But… she isn't." It was cautiously said and he nodded in reply.

"She isn't," he agreed. "And therein lies the problem. We're both bound to the military at this time and, in many ways, her being in the position she's in is far more valuable than what she could have been if I'd not been so foolish."

"What do you mean?"

"She watches my back, Xiao-Hua. She keeps me safe." I nodded.

"Like a guard?" He smiled and nodded.

"Yes. But more than that. She watches my back for me so that I can go forward to the future, towards becoming Fuhrer." My eyes widened as I was impressed by this. "Because of this, though, we can't be… more."

"More what?" At his chuckle, I realized I'd missed something very obvious.

"She and I can't be in a relationship like we'd want to be." I looked down at my hands at that once more. "I'm sorry."

"I wish you could."

"I wish I could, too. Perhaps one day, we'll be allowed to have that family… But right now? We can't." A knocking came at the door. "Yes?" Dad called as I looked up.

"Dinner is done, you two. Come to the table now."

"Alright, Sarah. We'll be there soon." Dad looked back to me and I considered him in return. "Please, Dawn. You can go to her like she's your mom, but don't keep asking why we aren't together." I nodded quietly only to find myself being hugged. "I love you, Xiao-Hua."

"Love you, too, Dad."

.

I knew that I couldn't keep pushing Dad and Aunt Riza anymore. And I didn't particularly like the reason. I knew they still loved each other but were convinced this was the only way to go forward. I didn't think they were right… but at least I could understand somewhat now. They were trying, but in a way I didn't really understand. It meant, though, that they couldn't be together in the way _I_ really wanted them to be.

I'd not get any siblings anytime soon, which really sucked. Still, I had a few friends. "Dawn!" Laura was suddenly there, hugging me. Along with her came the other two kids that had adopted me as a friend. There was Jackie Wallace and Amy Shoemaker and both were fun though Laura was more my best friend.

"Hey, Laura," I smiled, distracted from my thoughts. "Hi, Jack, Amy." Jackie shoved her curly hair out of her face once again, grinning toothily.

"We're supposed to go to the malt shop today!" she chirped.

"Where did you go?" complained Laura.

"I had to get my clothes from the locker room," I explained, not thrilled with the physical education class but understanding as to why it was there. Laura rolled her eyes, but I hadn't done anything wrong so I ignored it.

"We don't have forever to wait, you know," Amy complained, frowning. Of the three of us, Amy was easily the least enthusiastic and often complained about everything. None of us particularly minded as she really wasn't _that_ much of a downer. I nodded.

"Then why are we still standing here?" asked Laura archly.

"Don't we have to wait for Hailey?" I asked. Laura's expression shifted slightly and then she nodded.

"You're right. Mom won't be happy if I leave her." Thankfully we didn't have to wait long and our little group of four became five as the aforementioned little sister came running up.

"I'm here!" she chirped brightly, panting a little. "Sorry to keep you waiting!"

"Well, let's go _now_ ," Jackie pressed impatiently. And like that, the quintet of girls (myself included) began walking down the road in the direction of the malt shop. Granted, it was getting colder but it was still such a fun trip.

-/-/-/-

Thank you so much for reading my story. **Please review.**


	16. In which I Meet a Boy

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Reviews: I've had more than a few lovely reviews this last go-round. And, honestly, I would have updated sooner, but the site refused to let me log in at one point and I got legitimately sidetracked as everything went a little hectic (but not bad!) and busy. That being said, I want to give some generalized responses to your reviews.

When does she meet Ed and Al officially? Well, if it's not obvious by the title of this chapter that a certain boy _is_ met… we will be meeting a certain boy this chapter. It won't be the focus of the entire chapter, but a certain red-coated boy will appear. Alphonse will obviously come a little later.

When will Ishvalans appear? It won't be for a while yet. Mostly because there's no real good way to introduce them and, to be fair, most live either in slums outside the cities or in areas Dawn normally doesn't visit.

When will Roy and Riza get together? Again, not for a _long_ while. It isn't because I don't think they can't do it earlier, but rather because of very real reasons besides their stubbornness. Fraternization laws are a very real thing and it would be _bad_ if they were caught together 'that way'. I know it could go 'don't ask, don't tell', but _one_ slip and… bye, bye!

Is this story abandoned? Most certainly not! I've got quite a ways to go.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 16: In Which I Meet a Boy

.

It was Winter Solstice again and this time the gathering was in Dad's apartment instead of in Central. He'd not managed to get the week off as it was so coveted, but that was alright. I knew he'd get Spring Solstice off and that was a fun holiday, too. Granted, I did spend some time with my friends, too, as they had the week off and Grandma didn't mind taking me to spend the days off with them. Oh, I got some nice little presents courtesy of Old Man Winter as well as from my family, but the special event was happening _today_. Dad was off from work and had suggested that we go to a moving picture that had opened about four days back. It was supposed to be some sort of comedy despite the fact it was called 'The First Snow She Saw'.

I was, in all actuality, thrilled. Going to a moving picture was _nothing_ like it had been in my old life. Here, they were relatively new things and still silent save for the playing of a piano by someone there in the cinema. In fact, special effects were at times extremely hokey or extremely difficult. Everything on screen had been done by _hand_. Alchemists were just rare enough that they wouldn't be kept on retainer just for props (especially as those repair alchemists could get ridiculously expensive and didn't always know _everything_ ), so it was easier to use copious amounts of _papier mâché_ and paint for things that weren't meant to last forever… or rely on a general props department.

And I was getting to go see a _movie_.

Okay, okay. They were still called 'moving pictures' and they were _just_ expensive enough that it was a fairly rare occurrence. Honestly? Radio Theater was far more fun because it required more imagination and the normal theater was an even _rarer_ occurrence (I'd only been once in my entire life though it had been boring for me). But this was fun, too.

"I'm ready!" Dad snorted as he stood still with Grandma fussing over him. Apparently she decided his tie wasn't done right and was doing it again for him because, currently, the accessory was being knotted by the woman. Grandma, dressed in a flattering deep blue dress with silvery accents that was very pretty, looked towards me.

"You look wonderful," she congratulated before turning back to her informally-adopted son. I beamed even as she finished tying the tie into place and released him. Dad looked at me before making a slight face.

"Why are you wearing _that_?" he asked, incredulous. I blinked and looked down at the dress I wore. Nothing was wrong in my eyes. It was a red and green dress. I looked up as Grandma smacked his arm. He reflexively flinched.

"She looks fine," she fussed. "Not very traditional, but fine."

Not traditional? My confusion only grew before dissipating under realization. "I got her a dress," Dad huffed at her with a scowl. The traditional colors of the season weren't red and green, I remembered. How had I forgotten? "It's fine, Dawn," reassured Dad, who had gotten smacked by my grandma during my inward ponderings. "You look fine."

"Are you sure?" He sighed before coming forward to draw me into his arms.

"I'm sure. Come on, now. We don't want to be late for the showing."

.

Approximately one and a half hours later, we exited the cinema. It was still early enough that the shops were still open and other pictures were showing after ours, but our breath puffed white in the cold air and I had thoroughly enjoyed the roasted nuts Dad had purchased for me before going into the theater. The movie had been great, complete with chirpy, cheery music, and some very hammy scenes where it was supposed to be 'serious'. 'The First Snow She Saw' revolved more around a young woman's delight in moving to the northern regions of Amestris after living in the milder southern climate for most of her life and, among many of the other scenes, finding her 'first love' with the goofy male lead who proceeded to drag her through every possible snow-related disaster short of hypothermia in the movie. Dad had laughed, Grandma had chuckled, and I had found myself giggling more often than not, even at the 'not funny' parts.

As we walked in the darkening streets, my hand that wasn't occupied by the remnants of my cinema snack was hooked in my father's and he spun me around with very little encouragement. I laughed at his antics, feet kicking up the tiny bit of snow left on the pavement, as Grandma smiled indulgently. It was one of the moves that we saw in the movie and it was as fun for me as it was for Dad as he twirled me.

Naturally, I found a ridge in the pavement and stumbled, only keeping from falling by the quick grasp of my Dad's hand on my wrist. "You alright, Xiao-Hua?" he asked, checking me over.

"Yes, sir." I smiled reassuringly as I stood straight again.

"Perhaps no more horsing around?" Grandma noted dryly. Dad frowned at her.

"Ha, ha," he replied flatly.

"What?" she asked almost too innocently. I caught on a moment later and snickered.

"Really, Sarah? 'Horsing around'. Really?"

"You've never heard that before?" she taunted breezily.

"Only about a thousand times from _Hughes_ ," he complained. "He thought it was hysterical."

"It's funny!" I giggled. "Horsing around!"

"Yes, Dawn," groused Dad. Grandma smirked as I continued my fit of giggles.

"Because we're Mustangs!"

"Yes, Dawn," he repeated in a more exasperated tone.

"C'mon, Dad! Laugh!"

"It's good for you, Roy," encouraged Grandma.

"Ha, ha," he snorted out. It sounded so derisive that it only inspired more laughter from me.

"Your daughter finds it funny," encouraged Grandma.

"She's an odd duck."

"No, I'm a Mustang!" I corrected, too pleased with myself to take offense to his words.

"Well, she is right."

"I'm _also_ right."

"Well, I suppose so. A horse would make a very odd-looking duck." I felt more laughter burbling up and I grinned at Dad who was rolling his eyes so hard, I was a little impressed.

"You're in a rare mood."

"I just saw a good picture, Roy," she smiled. "And a certain someone has a very infectious laugh."

"You are a horrible, horrible person. Just for all those horrible jokes, you get to keep that 'certain someone' for the night, Sarah."

"Dad!" I was suddenly feeling aghast at the idea of sleeping away from home.

"That's certainly doable," she agreed amicably. "I was planning on staying over tonight anyway. I think Dawn's bed's big enough to share."

"She kicks."

"Dad!" I whined.

"Her mother once did the same," Grandma replied drolly.

"Right…"

"It'll be nothing new." Dad shook his head before guiding us around a corner. I was sulking by this point and wasn't looking when his gloved fingers attacked my neck. I squealed as he tickled, shocked by both the insulated digits being cold and the fact they were tickling _me_.

"I lie," he offered as I wiggled away. "She's not a kicker. She's more of a snorer. It's really cute, though."

" _Dad_!" This was actually becoming _mortifying_. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm your father." I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. He might suggest I stick it against a pole and I was not doing that again this winter… again.

Laura dared me, by the way. I left a few taste buds on the flag pole. Thankfully, I'd not been the _only_ one. Jackie, Laura, and Amy also participated and had left behind their own taste buds. I actually think it's some rite of passage because not one of the watching teachers stopped us or reported us.

Dad still didn't know I'd done it, though. _Thankfully_. And I hadn't done more than the tip of my tongue as I hadn't wanted to plaster the entire muscle against the metal.

.

My next meeting with Olivier Armstrong was not as planned. Or, rather, I never intended to meet her again but there was this thing my father was expected to participate in and Olivier Armstrong was the presiding General of another area and was _also_ participating in it. They called them 'War Games' and both the northern fortress of Briggs and the East City military participated in these 'games'. They didn't happen _every_ year but did occur every two years back and forth between the cold of the northern area and the more amicable temperatures of the eastern region. Most of the games revolved around defensive and offensive strategies, Briggs being defensive and East City being offensive. The games had been held up north the last time, Dad being one of the poor saps to have to fight in the freezing cold for several weeks, and this time they were going to be held _here_.

Dad had told me the games would be held in the east. He did _not_ tell me that it would involve _Olivier Armstrong_ , who had been _promoted_ since I'd last seen her up to Major General, or that she would be spending time within the military campus before the games.

So, when he requested I come to his office after school, I was _not_ expecting _her_.

"Dawn Mustang." I froze mid-stride upon hearing the near-purr and turned slightly to see the proud female General.

"What are you doing here?" I asked faster than I had sense to sensor myself. I then winced and blushed and looked down. "I apologize," I muttered more to my feet than to the blonde woman.

"I see you've got more manners than last time." She wasn't alone and, indeed, her entourage was looking at me curiously through mirrored glasses that had funny sides on them.

"Not really," I offered drolly, looking up at the man with vague curiosity. He had a weird hairstyle and trim to his overlarge sideburns. His hair was platinum blonde, his skin was tan, he wore weird glasses, and he seemed fairly deferential, which wasn't surprising as I could see he was of a definite lower rank. Armstrong was smiling at me in a way that I found _incredibly_ uncomfortable. "I gotta go see my Dad."

"Oh?" I nodded. "And what's so important?"

"I think there's someone he wants to show me off to. He didn't give a reason." Which was the truth, honestly. I didn't know. My luck, the introduction would be to Armstrong as Dad didn't _quite_ hear about the incident involving me chewing out a decorated General because she'd been marginally mean to her younger brother. It was one of those 'don't ask, don't tell' things.

"Is that so?" She was definitely amused. "Have you spoken to my brother recently?" I flushed a little and shook my head in the negative. I wrote letters, certainly, but we didn't really have a reason to go to Central anymore beyond Uncle Maes and Aunt Gracia.

"Only letters," I admitted aloud, glancing towards the man with the strange spectacles. Armstrong gestured to the man.

"My assistant, Major Miles. Miles, this is Mustang's brat, Dawn."

"Hello." There was an oddly amused expression on his face as I scowled at the annoying and insulting woman. Never mind the fact that there were people _passing_ us by with curious (but not _that_ curious) looks or the fact that I'd been there often enough that the guards let me through without even bothering to have someone come to get me anymore.

There were many things I wished to comment in any number of tones, some of them dry or possibly acerbic and all definitely filed under the heading 'Not Nice'. I settled for polite instead. "Nice to meet you." I even offered it without sarcasm. His lips twitched noticeably. "Why do you wear those glasses? Do you have an eye condition?" I meant it nicely enough but I knew it also came off a bit nosey.

"No. It's a personal affectation," he replied. I nodded, dropping the subject before returning my attention back to Armstrong.

"I'm guessing you're on your way to annoy my Dad, aren't you?" Her superior smile became a smirk.

"Not quite. I'm on my way to General Grumman's office."

"But Dad's going to be there, isn't he?"

"Possibly. How should I know?" I didn't really like Armstrong, but I couldn't help but feel this was a golden opportunity. She was also the only one in this building that Dad would wish me to be introduced to, especially as Grumman was a sly old fox and would have likely 'suggested' it.

"Dawn, there you are." I turned again to see Aunt Riza and blinked in surprise. "The gate called to let us know you were here," she suddenly scolded. "But you didn't appear quickly."

"Oh…" So, instead of being escorted, I was being phoned in. Huh.

"General Armstrong," commented Aunt Riza, noticing the woman and straightening up in respect, the look of concern fading.

"First Lieutenant Hawkeye," nodded Armstrong. Dad and the rest of his entourage had been elevated a rank. He was a shiny Colonel now, after all. "I was talking to this young lady here."

"You just called me a brat not two minutes ago. Make up your mind." Aunt Riza gave me a horrified look as Mr. Miles fought a chuckle. Armstrong also looked like she was about to laugh.

"Dawn!" admonished Aunt Riza.

"It's true, Aunt Riza," I shrugged.

"Quite true," agreed Armstrong. "I think I'll settle calling you 'brat' from now on." Aunt Riza was _not_ looking mollified. I rolled my eyes.

"Are you still being mean to your brother?"

"Alex, you mean? Of course." She was honestly _humoring_ me. It was kind of bizarre. "And are you still an impertinent child who tells adults to go suck lemons?" I shrugged as Aunt Riza looked even _more_ horrified. Mr. Miles actually let a chuckle slip.

"Well, you're still being mean to your brother. _I'd_ like a brother like him."

"I'll give him to you," she drawled.

"He's not a puppy." That actually earned a hand in my hair and the badass female General nearly sneered as the force of her hand made my head bow a little.

"A fearless little girl you are." I had a feeling it _wasn't_ complimentary even if it was veiled as such.

"Thank you," I returned, pulling away. "Dad's probably getting worried." I looked over. "Right, Aunt Riza?"

"Right." The First Lieutenant wasn't happy. I could see that. "If you'll excuse us, General Armstrong. Come along, Dawn." I was firmly led away. Once we were far enough, she asked in a nearly frigid tone, "Why did you insult her?"

"I met her back when you guys were still in Ishval," I explained. "I was with Mr. Armstrong, the Strongarm?" She looked down at me as she still forcibly sent me along, a faint hint of remembered fear flickering in the depths of her eyes. "We were having tea and I was trying to help him. Then she came in and she started chewing him out for being… human. I kind of… got mad." I recalled the incident clearly and the resulting reactions by my grandparents, my grandpa still alive at the time. "Anyway, I-"

"Does your father know?"

"Not really," I admitted.

"Dawn…" She sighed. "I'm not your mother, but even I can tell you that you should have told him." I hummed neutrally, shrugging. "Dawn," she said again, warning me. "She could make your dad's life miserable."

"I know. But I don't think it's that bad." Aunt Riza, pausing outside the office door that led to the rest of my odd little family, turned to give me a long look. I honestly wondered about the words Armstrong had given, though. I was beginning to think the woman thought I was amusing. That didn't mean she couldn't or wouldn't be meaner to Dad, though, because of what I did.

"We'll find out soon enough," she finally sighed in exasperation. "But _warn_ your father first?"

"Yes, ma'am."

When I was brought in, everyone glanced towards the door. I figure this is a normal reaction, of course, but this time they knew I was coming. Aunt Riza didn't turn me loose and practically marched me right up to Dad. "Your daughter would like to tell you something," she offered without pretense, clearly ordering me to talk. Dad gave me a curious look even as I shifted uncomfortably.

"If you're going to introduce me to General Armstrong today, you're about… um…" I did a quick calculation. "Two and a half years too late?" Dad was looking confused now.

"Dawn," hissed Aunt Riza and I blushed.

"What do you mean?" Dad prompted, catching Aunt Riza's warning.

"I met her when she came home to the Armstrong Estate to be mean to her brother while you were still in Ishval and I yelled at her for it," I hastily added. Dad blanched and his eyes went wide as his fingers around his pen went slack. "And I saw her in the hall earlier. She remembers me."

"They were harassing each other in the hall," Aunt Riza filled in.

"I was being polite this time," I grumbled.

"That's not what I heard," she shot back tartly.

"I didn't tell her to suck a lemon this time." And then I winced, realizing I'd run my mouth too much.

" _Dawn Rose Mustang_!" roared my utterly horrified father. "You are _grounded_!"

If it hadn't been for the fact that I was in a lot of trouble, the look on everyone's faces would have been hysterical. As it was, I just sighed wearily and mumbled a sullen "Yes, sir."

Unsurprisingly, I was to be 'introduced' to Armstrong. I was also 'introduced' with a very tight hand on my shoulder. I was also pretty certain my shoulder was going to be bruised and my collar bone definitely ached from the pressure though it was nowhere near breaking. Dad, no matter how upset, wasn't _that_ callous. "General Armstrong, my daughter, Dawn."

Oh, and Dad was pretending I wasn't actually introduced for General Grumman's sake. Or Dad was just wanting to pretend. It didn't matter that Aunt Riza was there, stoic as ever, and Mr. Miles was there, lips vaguely curled into something resembling a smile. What mattered was the fiction that Dad had going in his head… or so I perceived.

"She's a very intelligent young lady," the old fox noted with a smile. Armstrong eyed me with a bit of amusement. "My only child is grown now," he went on, apparently oblivious to the current temperature of the room. "And even had a family of her own. I don't get to see my family nearly as often as I'd like, but I can be fairly certain my granddaughter is at least content with life." He was clearly reminiscing or perhaps laying on the 'old codger' a bit thick. I didn't know. I'm not sure I cared. All I knew was that I was in trouble with my father. And that my shoulder hurt.

"She's quite adorable," Armstrong offered affably to my Dad, cutting through Grumman's ramblings. I tried to not look like I was in pain, honestly.

"Ah, but you knew that already, didn't you?" Grumman knew. Dad's fingers on my shoulder pretty much confirmed this because… _ow_. And thus it became obvious that everyone was _laughing_ at Dad, which might mean I was going to be in even _greater_ hot water once I got out of here. I wasn't thrilled. "Ease up on the girl, Mustang. She's being behaved."

"Yes, sir." The hand relaxed and I shot Grumman a grateful look before dropping my eyes. "I apologize for any and all remarks my daughter has made, Major General Armstrong. Despite the efforts of her grandmother and I…" He paused slightly, and my mind briefly went to my grandfather. "Sometimes, she chooses to ignore her lessons and prove she has what many would call a smart mouth." He glared down at me, accentuating this point, and I cringed. Yeah, Dad was _pissed_. "Apologize, Dawn."

Strategically, putting every iota of repentance I could muster up into my voice as I uttered an apology I didn't really feel towards Armstrong might lighten my punishment. And that was, at this moment, a heavy 'might'. However, I also was very aware that it would do nothing more than probably keep the punishment from escalating further.

"I'm sorry for what I said, General Armstrong," I said as contritely as possible, managing to keep most of the hurt out of my voice. I didn't look at her. I didn't look at anyone. I just focused at some point safely away from everyone's gazes. I felt a slight urge to add to it, but I didn't want to lie, either. "Don't be mean to my dad because I can't keep my mouth shut?"

That might have been a mistake, too, because the pain in my shoulder returned, and I yelped only to have that pain instantly disappear as my dad apparently realized exactly how hard he'd been gripping me. Or I assume that because his hand vanished from me. Not that I noticed because my shoulder now _ached_ and I fought to not rub at it.

Then I chanced a look at Armstrong who had yet to say a word. I didn't get to find out what she was thinking or if she even accepted my apology because mere moments later, Dad was speaking. "I think it's time to go do your homework, Dawn. First Lieutenant, take her back to my office."

And like that, I was shuffled off and the door was shut behind me. Aunt Riza did as told, of course, and I wandered along with her as I rubbed at my shoulder now that I was certain Dad wasn't looking at me.

It was astonishingly painful and not just physically. Dad had spanked me in the past, and he'd always been careful in how he'd punished me. He'd not wanted to really hurt me. Now, his temper tested, I realized he _could_ hurt me… and it hurt more than my shoulder.

"Come on." Aunt Riza was looking at me and pressing a gentle hand against my uninjured shoulder, guiding me on. I soon found out our destination, which was the ladies room. She helped me pull off my jacket and then checked my shoulder through the unbuttoned collar of my shirt. "I don't see bruising yet," she assured.

"It hurts," I murmured, not meeting her gaze.

"I know," she assured. "But it might not bruise." I was pretty sure it would. "It'll be okay, Dawn."

"Dad's angry," I told her, upset.

"I know," she admitted. Not even she could spin it so it could be better. "But he'll calm down eventually." Aunt Riza straightened my clothes once more before finding my arms around her in a hug. She gently hugged me in return, not flinching when the door to the room opened to admit a woman. I didn't turn though I did flinch slightly, and withdrew from the hug. "Now, homework."

"Okay, Aunt Riza." The woman watched as we left the bathroom, Aunt Riza grabbing my jacket as we went as we ignored her evident curiosity.

.

My grounding was, unsurprisingly, not fun. I didn't get to go to the malt shop after school. I was to go straight home or to my grandmother's depending on the day. I wasn't allowed to practice alchemy. I wasn't allowed to study alchemy. I wasn't even permitted to have a bedtime story. Dad was angry, Grandma was disappointed, and I was effectively subdued.

My shoulder had a large handprint of a bruise on it, too, which I took care not to expose to anyone, though it was inevitable that Dad knew because Aunt Riza warned him about how red it had been when she'd inspected it. He honestly regretted hurting me, especially as I'd stayed silent as I'd been spanked once we'd gotten home that evening after my 'introduction' to the first female General of Amestris.

Despite my punishment, though, I was not deprived affection. Dad might not have permitted stories at bedtime, but that didn't stop him from tucking me close to him in the evenings after dinner when I didn't have to deal with homework. He might not have permitted alchemy, but he didn't discourage my pursuit of reading zoological texts that I'd begun to adapt into my reading repertoire as an effort to learn more about animals, especially ones common to zoos.

And even though my afterschool activities had been abruptly curtailed for now, it wasn't like I couldn't spend time with my friends during recess. They didn't know exactly _why_ I was grounded, the three of them of the opinion my father was pretty amazing, and I'd given them some excuse that I'd done something bad in relation to my grandmother. I did _not_ want to admit to being a brat to one of the most powerful people of the country.

The War Games eventually finished and I didn't get to see _anyone_ else from Briggs before the end. It was probably for the best, honestly.

"Hey, Dawn." I blinked and looked up from my book as it was currently raining outside (putting a complete damper on recess today). Looking at me was a boy. He was even a reasonably cute boy with curly dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. For a moment I had to scramble to remember his name. He wasn't in my class this year, but he had been _last_ year. And he'd been one of the boys to harass the girls. I'd been a favorite target.

"Hello, John," I greeted, carefully putting my makeshift bookmark into place and shutting my book. "How are you doing?" He shrugged as I came to remember he was twelve. I was still the youngest in class, my birthday having visited me right before the War Games and turning me eleven.

"I guess alright. Why are you here by yourself?" I looked around, noticing that Laura, Jackie, and Amy had all wandered off. I saw them playing with one of the rudimentary basketballs with some of the other kids.

"I was reading up on animals," I offered, angling the book to show him. "And I don't really like basketball." It was still a relatively new sport, only a couple decades old, but it was a very favored sport as it was high energy. The only problem I saw with the girls was that they had skirts on and had to mind them. "I like football better." Which was true. I might never have been great at it because being smallish made it hard to truly play against the bigger kids I had classes with, but I enjoyed it far more than basketball. It involved a lot more running and kicking and less fear of showing my underpants (though I did wear shorts under my skirt).

"Me, too." He was shifting uncomfortably, looking at me shyly. I was honestly baffled as he actually sat down next to me after a long moment. "So, that's a big book."

"Um, yeah. I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up." He looked suitably impressed.

"Cool! I wanna be a fireman!" And it was my turn to look impressed.

"Sounds awesome," I smiled. "Firefighters are real heroes." He beamed at my words.

"I know, right? And they get to go around in those awesome trucks and put out fires and save people!" John quickly went off on a tangent about firefighters and all things amazing about them, often repeating himself. I amicably listened, amused. I still didn't know why he'd come over, honestly, but I didn't mind. It had been my own fault that my friends were playing basketball though there were quite a few other kids simply lounging about like I was in the bleachers.

I blinked and muttered without realizing it. "Why are they called bleachers?" John paused mid-rant about how he'd be the best fireman in all of Amestris (a laughable concept considering firemen were wholly reliant on each other to survive, but I wasn't going to tell him that) and adopted a confused look.

"Huh?" I blinked at him before realizing I'd spoken aloud.

"These things." I patted the wooden bench I sat on. "Why are they called bleachers?"

"I don't know," he replied.

"Me neither," I grinned. "Maybe it's something to research?"

"I guess?" I considered it, sighting my friends who were no longer occupied by basketballs. They were giggling and whispering while looking towards John and me. "I never thought about it."

"Neither have I," I grinned, ignoring those three for now. Oddly enough, John was blushing more now.

It struck me in that instant what was going on. John _liked_ me. As in, he _liked_ me like a boy likes a girl in a girls-don't-have-cooties sort of way. I was suddenly stupefied by this. And he was here at a very poor first attempt at flirting. Or second. I didn't know. But he was _here_ and _trying_ to flirt. He was trying to be friendly. He was twelve years old, obviously beginning to hit puberty, and had decided to try to be friendly.

My dad was going to have a conniption fit if he found out.

Suddenly derailed from all my cleverness and 'coolness', I couldn't help but stare at John as he continued his attempts to flirt. Or I assumed they were attempts. It was an honest relief when the bell rang to signal the end of recess. John, however, didn't look so happy.

"Are you… doing anything after school?" he tendered as I gathered my things up.

"No," I admitted.

"Want to go to the malt shop? Maybe the rain will let up by then?" He looked so hopeful and I knew my response would be heartbreaking to him. I gave him an apologetic look.

"I can't." He looked crestfallen at my words. "I got in trouble a little while ago and… Dad won't let me do anything after school for a while."

"Oh. What did you do?"

"Does it matter?" I groused, looking away. "I'm in trouble. And I probably have another two weeks of punishment minimum. It's just how it is."

"How about after you're done being grounded?" he asked curiously. I looked to him and then hedged slightly.

"We'll see by then. I don't know how long…" He nodded, still a bit depressed.

"We can talk still, right?"

"Sure." My smile was nice enough because he did brighten back up. After that, Laura, Jackie, and Amy came over to walk with me back towards class, stealing me away from John.

"What were you talking about?" Jackie asked excitedly. "With John?"

"Um, animals and firefighters?" I offered, intentionally stupid.

"Oh, come on," scoffed Laura. "Dawn, I knew last year he liked you." I shot her an appalled look.

"Last _year_?!" Laura nodded with a broad grin. "You… He _harassed_ me all last year!"

"I _know_." While it wasn't the traditional pulling of the pigtails, John _had_ annoyed me, often pestering me with questions and coming over to tease me. I scowled at her.

"And what changed?" I demanded of her.

"Maybe he figured out he has to do more to impress you," smirked Jackie, pulling attention away from my best friend.

"He is cute," giggled Amy, almost uncharacteristically for the girl. I groaned.

"What's wrong?" asked Laura.

"Dad's not going to be happy."

"Oh?" I waved it off, deciding to remain silent about the entire thing. They didn't know about Dad's tendencies, and I'd rather keep it that way.

.

"Dawn, I'm not happy." I didn't tell him about John, but I was now facing down an unhappy father.

"I'm sorry." The reason he was unhappy? I'd dropped a large glass platter while trying to put away the dishes. Said platter should have gone into an upper cabinet and, normally, I just sat those things on the counter so that Dad could put them away later.

However, after every single other dish, pot, pan, and piece of silverware had been put away, I'd decided I'd try to put away that one platter because Dad hadn't been there to do it and I didn't want to leave it undone. As I'd been forbidden to use alchemy, I'd been hesitant to draw out a circle to repair the platter. I'd done it anyway, though, because I figured I could clean up the evidence and put the platter on the counter once again to let him take care of it like I should have done in the first place.

Unfortunately, I'd been just cleaning up when Dad had come home and he'd seen me scrubbing the chalk off the floor.

"You deliberately disobeyed me."

"I know." I wasn't going to make excuses and I kept my head down.

"You knew I'd forbidden alchemy."

"I know."

"What did you use it for?" I remained silent, knowing he didn't yet know I'd nearly hurt myself on broken glass. "I'm waiting for an answer, Dawn."

I sighed and responded. "I was trying to put away the dish…" I glanced to the kitchen where my repaired mistake was. "And it fell when I was trying to put it up." He paused at my explanation. "I didn't want to just… sweep it up and throw it away. I didn't want to leave it laid out, either. I… I know I messed up."

"Are you hurt?" he asked. I shook my head in the negative, choosing to not reveal the small cut I'd gotten on one finger. It was just deserves in my opinion.

"No, sir." He sighed and shook his head before walking without further comment to the kitchen to examine the repair. I moved to continue scrubbing, knowing it needed to be done. When he returned, his booted feet stopped just short of the circle I'd sketched.

"Dawn, stand up." I did as told and looked up. "You disobeyed. I won't extend your grounding, but you will get another spanking, alright?"

"Yes, sir."

He considered me for a long, long moment before sighing wearily. Before he went for the belt, he hugged me close. "What am I going to do with you?" he murmured. I hugged him back, knowing it wasn't going to ease the pain and embarrassment of a spanking.

"Love you, Dad."

"Love you, too… But you make it hard to be a father."

"Sorry."

.

John was… cute. He also made the mistake of hanging out with me on one of those rare days Dad came to pick me up. "Who are you waiting for?" he asked cheerily. His previous attempts to go with me to the malt shop had been, indeed, realized. In fact, he was slowly growing bolder with his attentions which I wasn't really certain about.

"My dad," I told him. "You waiting for your mom?" He nodded.

"Yes." He glanced behind him. "And my brothers." I nodded, shifting slightly to keep an eye out for my father. He was probably not going to be happy that I was too close to a boy. I sincerely hoped John's mother came before Dad did.

Of course, my dreams and wishes would not be realized. "Ready to go home, Xiao-Hua?" Dad asked as he managed to get around to a point where he could step closer to me. I saw he was in a genial mood and knew I was about to ruin it for him.

"Yes, sir."

"What's that mean?" I winced. Dad blinked. John looked confused when I glanced at him. "That show-hoo-ha?" I winced again. That sounded _really_ naughty.

"Dawn?" Dad asked of me.

"Dad… meet John Caudwell. John… my dad." Thankfully, John was smart enough to notice I wasn't happy about him meeting my dad and he shifted uncomfortably. Dad looked to John.

"Xiao-Hua is my nickname for my daughter. It means 'little flower' in Xingese," he explained. "Now, it's time to go, Dawn." He firmly led me away. I didn't fight him on it. John was left there, gaping after us. "Who was he?" Dad demanded of me. I mumbled, not too thrilled with answering. "What was that?" he asked again.

"He's a boy who likes me," I told him uncomfortably.

"You know how I feel about that sort of thing, Dawn."

"I know. I… Honestly, playing with you is one thing. He's… not what I would have picked to annoy you."

"Oh?" So, I started divulging everything that was going on with the whole John thing and he listened carefully. I explained about last year, how John had been annoying and picked on me. He'd heard some of that back then, of course. He heard more now. By the end of it, I was thoroughly embarrassed.

"I keep wondering when he'll kiss _me_ ," I complained finally. "But I don't know how to tell him to go away. He's… nice, I guess? But he's… He's boring ultimately."

"How so?" he questioned.

"He's boring. It's not that he wants to be a fireman or he likes his dogs or doesn't like his brothers sometimes. He's just… meh." Dad smiled at that.

"Meh?"

"Meh," I agreed.

"Well, so long as you have better standards than 'meh'," he mused. "I can't be too upset if he's not your style."

.

Dad was dating. It didn't quite process at first and I'd found out through the man I'd started calling 'Uncle Jean' when he complained about Dad stealing yet another girlfriend of his… but Dad was dating. "Why?" I asked of Aunt Riza. "Why is he…?" She might be able to explain it to me. "Doesn't he…?" I faltered again, wary of speaking their hidden love aloud.

"There's a reason," Aunt Riza explained patiently as we worked on root vegetables. "I'm not happy, either, but… he's using these dates for another reason." I stared at her over my half-cleaned carrot.

"Like?"

"He's forming something of a spy network," she admitted as she cleaned a potato. "And it will help disguise our relationship as well. They are merely dates, Dawn. I promise."

"But… you. And him?" She sighed.

"He's not done anything wrong, Dawn." I considered that. "It's actually very useful… and he won't bring anyone home. He and I talked about it and we both agreed to that."

"Why not?" I asked, confused.

"Because of you. Your father refuses to involve you." I understood and nodded. She smiled in response. "He loves you too much to involve you in that sort of thing."

"And you?" She chuckled gently and patted my hand.

"You don't have to worry about me. Your father's playing a game, Dawn. And he is already building a reputation in such a way that you won't be harmed from it."

"I hope you're right."

"I believe I am. Now, let's work."

.

I paused as I caught sight of bright red and lots of it. My eyes moved as I tracked the figure wearing it and realized it was a coat. It was someone about my age moving along the other side of the road and my nose wrinkled as I took in the braid falling over the hood of the red coat. How outlandish.

But something about it niggled at me and my feet started moving, backtracking along the way I'd been going, as I moved to catch up with the wandering figure across the street. Then I crossed the road and belted after the person, just _knowing_ it was a boy. It was late September, a period of time that I had a feeling would be important somehow, and the boy had appeared. He heard my running feet and turned in confusion, the crucified snake on the back of his coat vanishing as he did so. I halted near him, panting and lungs burning from the cool air.

"Who are you?" he asked in confusion.

"Dawn!" I cheerily offered. "You have a neat coat!" This clearly baffled him and, frankly, it wasn't what I'd meant to say.

"Uh, thanks. I… I'm Edward."

"Nice to meet you, Edward!" I grinned at him as he shuffled his suitcase. "Who are you visiting? Family?"

"No. I'm… looking to meet someone."

"Who?"

"Uh…" He dug around in his pocket before pausing. "You probably don't know him. He's a part of the military."

"My dad's military," I replied, aware that Edward was probably looking for my father. If that coat and hair and _name_ didn't mean the future Fullmetal, I didn't know what did. He gave me a peculiar look. "Maybe I could take you to Eastern Command, huh? I mean, obviously you're not visiting for personal reasons or else you'd be looking up an address."

"I already know how to get to the Command. I asked at the station," he told me, annoyed.

"Then you got mixed up or are taking the long way," I pointed out. "You should have turned left two blocks ago." He blinked and looked back the way he'd come. "That would have taken you to Clock Square. Go straight on through and you'd have to go four more blocks and take a right and it would have taken you right to the gates."

"Damn." He didn't look thrilled.

"I go there a lot," I shrugged. "So, why are you here?"

"I'm here for the State Alchemist Program." I knew it and nodded.

"Then you'll want to talk to my dad." He gave me a baffled look.

"I'm here to talk to this Lieutenant Colonel named Mustang," he disagreed.

"I know. He's my dad." He looked at me in shock. "So… go on like I told you… okay?"

"Alright," he murmured. I watched him go, already knowing his fate. Sadness cut at me and I watched until I couldn't see him anymore.

' _Edward Elric…'_ I sighed and walked on.

-/-/-/-

Thank you for reading. **Please review.**


	17. In Which I Meet the Other Boy

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Note: I apologize for it taking a while to update. One of my reviews encouraged me to discard an entire plot line that was mostly canon and I had to work on the beginning stages to start moving things a new direction. The result is that I had to really think about some things, some lingering plot devices that would let me slowly diverge, and it's much more difficult than I expected.

That being said, this will not immediately happen. This will remain relatively canon for this chapter and the divergences will hopefully grow greater as I go along.

-/-/-/-

Chapter 17: In Which I Meet the Other Boy

.

Dad didn't come home that evening. In fact, Grandma came over after a phone call because not only Dad but Aunt Riza were going to Central in an unprecedented and whirlwind trip. He didn't explain why to my grandmother other than 'Dawn knows and she'll explain'.

That resulted in me staring at my grandmother as she explained this to me and asked me what was going on. "He… That boy."

"What boy?" Grandma asked as I tried to reorient my stunned mind.

"You remember the alchemists that Dad went to visit?" I asked her. She nodded and then paused. She paled.

"They came?"

"Just Edward." I thought back to the meeting. It suddenly struck me that he had a metal hand. "He got automail," I realized. For whatever reason, he'd not bothered to hide it. Perhaps he was proud? That wasn't too far out there, of course. Automail rehabilitation was something extraordinarily difficult to do, especially in a year.

"Automail? How do you know?"

"His hand. It's metal." Grandma considered that before slowly nodding.

"I see…" She sighed and nudged me on. "Let's fix dinner."

My mind was far away at this point, wondering what Dad, Aunt Riza, and Edward were doing. I wondered how Aunt Gracia and Uncle Maes were doing, too. Actually, I knew she was pregnant at the moment with their first child and was excited about it even if I hadn't had a chance to visit during summer again.

I just hoped that whatever happened would not be necessarily bad.

.

"Dawn, we're going to have company." I gave her a confused look. It was the day after Dad had left and I didn't know what was going on. Today had been fairly busy, my friends and I working on some project the teacher assigned and John had tried to flirt again though I'd been somewhat cold in dismissing him. I'd been off in the clouds for the most part lately. "Heymans is coming by."

"Oh. Is he going to make me play chess again?"

"Not quite," she smiled though it was a tight expression. "He's bringing someone to stay with us." I gave her a baffled look.

"Who?"

"Edward Elric." My eyes widened as I realized what she'd just said.

"He's coming here?" Grandma nodded.

"So, straighten up my guest room for me, will you?" I nodded.

"Yes, ma'am." I scurried and did as told, quickly neatening the room back to perfection. If he was staying _here_ , it meant that Dad wanted him watched after and trusted him to Grandma… and vice versa. She was going to have to trust him, too. When Uncle Heymans appeared with a surly-looking Edward in tow, I smiled even though Grandma was clearly the first person either male saw.

"Heymans," she greeted the portly redhead. "How are you doing?"

"Pretty good, Mrs. Sarah," he smiled. "This is Edward Elric. Boss said to bring him over."

"He called. Hello, Edward. I'm Sarah Edgecombe and this is my granddaughter, Dawn." I came next to her at her gesture and got to see the flash of surprise on Edward's face. "Feel free to call me Mrs. Sarah if you'd like. Heymans obviously does."

"She's a good cook, too, kid," assured Uncle Heymans. "Heya, squirt." I made a face at him.

"I'm not a squirt."

"Yeah, you are."

"Be polite. Edward, you'll be taking the guest room. Dawn, show him where it is."

"Okay, Grandma." I motioned and he followed, case in hand and still looking surly. "Why are you mad?" I asked of him as we entered the room.

"Nothing." I didn't believe him but I gave over on that. "She's your grandma?" he asked instead. I nodded. "But she's not a Mustang."

"No. She's my mother's mother." He looked a bit surprised at that.

"Where's your mom?" he asked.

"Dead." It was said carelessly even if I felt sadness at knowing I was the cause of her death. I didn't look at him as I patted the bed. "Anyway, just keep the room kind of neat. Grandma won't mind if you poke around. There's only one other bedroom and…" I stopped as I turned to look at him. He looked disturbed, upset. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." There was this look in his eyes that I found myself unsettled by. Then I remembered and cursed my foolishness.

"I never knew her," I tried to reassure, shifting nervously. "She died when I was born." He looked a little stricken by that. "I… didn't mean to upset you."

"How old are you?" he wondered.

"Eleven. It's okay, Ed. You didn't know." He wasn't meeting my eyes. I instinctively dropped my hand to his arm and felt the unyielding metal underneath. I felt my breath hitch and saw his shame. "I forgot, actually. About your mom, that is. You should have seen Dad when he came back from meeting you. He… He told us what happened, me and Grandma… and he was so frightened about what happened."

"He was?" Ed asked hoarsely, looking up. I nodded, fingers still on the arm. "But he was an asshole towards me… Said he'd tell about what I did to the government. Have Al taken from me." That didn't sound in character for my father and I frowned.

"Why would he do that?" I wondered. Edward's hands fisted and he pulled away from my touch, clearly aggravated.

"Something about how it would have been convenient if I had taken out the Fuhrer." I gasped, having a feeling that this wasn't the entirety of the story. "I asked if it was normal for a good subordinate to have such—Hey!"

"Don't ever speak about that!" I hissed, hands on either side of his jacket as I jerked him closer. "Don't! He'd die for _thinking_ it, branded a traitor!" Yet why had he said it in front of _Edward_? Said blonde shoved me off and glared.

"Does _everyone_ know?"

"Only those that are both close to him and saw the aftermath of _Ishval_ ," I snarled back. He blinked. "Dad was out there. Dad saw… horrible things. There were nights I'd sit on the floor and listen as he went _back_ there." He still did on occasion though without as many mutters. Now Ed was looking taken aback. "What he saw out there, Edward… You don't want to imagine it. You _can't_ imagine it. He may be called a hero, but he feels like he's a murderer. That's why he wants to be… be _that_. So he can stop it. So no one else like _you_ or _me_ have to know what it means to hurt people for some sick and unknown reason." I drew a breath.

"Then why did he threaten my brother?"

"What's the one good way to keep you from talking? When you're reminded of why you're here in the _first_ place?" I stepped forward again, earnest. "Don't talk about it? Don't let anyone know. Dad won't rat you out, I know that. He…" I stopped, swallowing. "Please?" He was staring at me, honestly _staring_ , and then he averted his gaze.

"I won't."

"Thank you." I didn't hug him and my gratitude was soft. "I don't know what I'd do without him." He looked further ashamed.

"Yeah. I get that."

We stood there for a long moment in awkward silence. I guessed he really did understand. After all, he was broken because he so greatly desired his mother back. Edward and his brother had both been broken.

"All settled in?" We looked to see Grandma there. It was obvious to me that she'd heard some of our conversation but wasn't commenting on it. I was grateful for that.

"Er, yes… Mrs. Sarah," nodded Edward.

"Good. Well, I know your dad isn't going to be in tonight…" She directed this at me. "Heymans said so." I nodded soberly. "You'll be sleeping with me tonight, alright?"

"Okay, Grandma."

"I'm not… a problem, right?"

"No," assured Grandma with a smile. "I don't mind. Ever since Roy told us about you, I've wanted to meet you one day. I'd like to meet your brother as well."

"Did he tell everyone about us?" he snapped churlishly only to flinch under her disapproving look.

"No, he didn't. In fact, the only people who _do_ know about you is Roy, Dawn, Riza, and myself. Essentially only close family."

"Riza?" he parroted, confused.

"Aunt Riza… You'd know her as First Lieutenant Hawkeye," I informed him. He blinked.

"Oh. She was with the Colonel."

"She was," agreed Grandma. "Now, come along and help with dinner, Dawn."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You come, too, Edward. Lurking about isn't good for your health."

.

When Dad returned, I knew about it because I was told the night before and returned home to find him plundering the not-so-secret stash of alcohol. "What's wrong?" I asked upon seeing him that evening. He grunted, glaring at his glass. "Dad? What's wrong?"

"He _passed_ ," Dad hissed out, making the word sound like an oath. "Bradley just decided to _enlist_ a _twelve-year-old_." I understood now and I thought about the preteen who had been carefully kept by Grandma over the past week as the decision was made about his testing.

"Why?" I asked.

"Hell if I know," he swore, setting the glass he held down a bit more firmly than intended. I came forward to sit next to him, levering myself into a seat. He looked at me with worry. "Dawn, I've got to protect the boy. He… I offered the military and he got in. I have to protect him."

"What will you do?"

"I've already begun by requesting him to be put under my control." I blinked. "He'll be one of my subordinates even if he still technically under the command of Fuhrer Bradley."

"That's good. You can keep an eye on him, right?" He grunted sourly, reaching for the bottle and pouring out another dollop of amber liquid into the glass before him. "How… much are you going to drink?" I asked cautiously.

"I want to get drunk," he growled, and I felt alarm at this. "Not blackout drunk, Dawn," he said, seeing my expression. Then, seeing as my expression had grown skeptical, he sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. "What will I do?"

"Stop drinking for tonight?" I offered.

"Cheek, young lady."

"I heard from Ed how you threatened his brother." Dad honestly looked embarrassed.

"I didn't know how else to bring him up short. I got reamed out by Hawkeye, too."

"Good," I snorted, settling back on my seat and folding my arms over my chest. "Because I know you could see threatening Ed's brother was probably the dumbest thing you could do."

" _Cheek_ ," he snorted. "And it wasn't the dumbest thing I could do. Offering that fool boy the possibility of the State Alchemist Program was the stupidest thing I could do."

"Well, now you know. Perhaps now you won't offer military service to _anyone_ anymore."

"You're right. I won't." He ran a hand through his hair, grumpily staring at the again-empty glass. "Because apparently the military isn't above violating its own rules to get its hands on talent."

"At least he's not a traditional military person," I tendered. He looked at me in confusion. "He's less likely to be deployed because he hasn't got the training."

"That kid probably does have battle-ready alchemy, Dawn," he told me, frowning. "He can transmute clapping his hands together, no circle at _all_. He made a spear out of the floor and proceeded to show the Fuhrer that attending the program tryouts was a bad idea." I blinked.

"Wow…" I'd have said 'that was ballsy', but I didn't want to get into trouble. Dad nodded sourly.

"The Fuhrer apparently had him handled. That man has a preternaturally fast ability with a sword." I frowned at the description but hummed in a noncommittal way. I still found King Bradley unsettling even though it had been quite some time since I'd last seen him. I doubt he even _remembered_ me. "Still…" He broke off, sighing. When he reached for the bottle again, I reached for it and pulled it away. "Dawn."

"You shouldn't drink anymore," I pointed out to him. He stared at me. "You don't want to be hungover tomorrow. Aunt Riza was bad about you threatening Edward? Imagine her eating your lunch if you show up to work in a less-than-capable state after being away from your desk for a week."

Unsurprisingly, Dad desisted. "You're a very cruel little girl, you know that?"

"I learned from the best." He didn't look too thrilled by that but didn't object.

.

School was, in a word, dull. Edward also went on after meeting Dad, and I didn't get to see him off. John was beginning to suggest that perhaps we could go to a harvest festival together and Laura, Jackie, and Amy all seemed keen to encourage me to go with him. Unfortunately, I didn't have a good reason _not_ to as September ended and October began. Dad had informed me that Edward had been given permission to go home for a short while before being officially employed as a State Alchemist, advising me that he was due back on the fifth.

Unsurprisingly, the knowledge that a twelve-year-old making the program wasn't getting too far just yet. It was far too new of news in the military and it wasn't something that would be advertised in the newspapers. I wondered what the other brother was like, of course, as memory was just that faded. Grandma had nothing but accolades about Edward being a fairly well-mannered boy (he was nearly a teenager after all) and had, according to reports given by her later the evening he'd left, given him both a large hug and plenty of food for the ride back to Resembool. She'd also given him an invitation to return if he needed a place to sleep. Like Dad, she was set to protect him as much as possible. Even though Edward would now get a nice yearly stipend to do his research on, she wanted to ensure he had a place to go that wasn't just some cold hotel room in the city.

If what she said was true, Edward was definitely touched by the gesture.

"You're off in another world again," Amy pointed out, poking at my shoulder. I looked over at her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm… thinking about someone I met." All three girls looked interested at that moment.

"Who?"

"It's a boy, isn't it?"

"John's going to be _mad_ ," teased Laura. I flushed and glared at her. "Cheating on your boyfriend?" She waggled her brows. I glared harder.

"He's _not_ my boyfriend."

"You deny it too much," Jackie snickered. I sneered.

"As if. I've got too much on my plate for a boyfriend anyway."

"Oh?" Amy asked.

"Yeah. I'm learning alchemy… and there's something that happened in the military recently."

"Like?" Now all three were leaning in.

"There's a new State Alchemist."

"Is _that_ all?" scoffed Jackie. "The guy that lives next door to us has been trying a lot to join, or what Mom says… But don't those guys join all the time?" I shrugged.

"This one's pretty special. His name's Edward Elric and he's the youngest ever to pass."

"Oh? You met him?" I nodded. "Is he cute?" I considered it and nodded.

"I guess so. He's kind of a rebel, I guess. His hair's long and he wears a flashy coat. He got named 'Fullmetal'." Dad had been utterly disgusted by that, actually. Well, he was disgusted by the entire thing.

"You're not telling us anything interesting," Amy pointed out. "What's so amazing about him?"

"He's to be Dad's subordinate," I offered, not really wanting to say Edward was actually their age. Not my age. I was a year younger.

"Oh, yeah? Wonder what cool alchemy he can do…"

"I wonder if he's _handsome_ ," Laura teased and I shifted uncomfortably. "Does he compare to John?"

"No. John's not an alchemist," I told her. "And Ed's one of the best… He's got a brother, too. From what I understand, Grandma likes Edward."

Amy, however, was shrewder than the others. "You are really respectful of everyone…" I gave her a confused look. "How old _is_ Edward? You said he was the youngest ever to get in… What is he? Sixteen?" I looked down at my lunch.

"No."

"How old?" asked Jackie, curious. "Seventeen?"

"No."

"What's wrong?" Amy asked.

"You don't understand but… Dad was upset when they passed Edward."

"Why? Because he's getting some competition?" joked Jackie.

"No… Because Ed's younger than sixteen." They looked at me in confusion. "Edward's _our_ age." My soft words were clear despite the fact that the chatter was loud around us.

"Wait. He's _twelve_?!" There was some incredulity, and I nodded soberly.

"I don't know what's going on. I don't even know _why_ he was accepted. Dad doesn't know why. So…" I broke off, poking at my lunch. I didn't know what else to say. It was probably bad that I was saying as much as I had. The depression and obvious thoughts of being down lent a silence to my friends.

It was interrupted by John. "Hey, Dawn!" I didn't immediately respond and glanced up. "Uh, what's wrong?"

"It doesn't matter," I muttered somewhat sourly. I shoved up and grabbed my tray. "I'm not hungry anymore. Sorry, guys."

I walked away without another glance, uncaring if I hurt them or upset them. A long time ago I'd once thought of a storybook as something entertaining. Since becoming part of it, losing most of the information I had vaguely recalled along the way, I'd only discovered the more unsettling aspects of living in such a world. I didn't know what the future entailed. I didn't know why the government did the things it did. I certainly didn't remember the reasons given by the story.

.

"Hey, Dawn!" I paused, turning just outside my school. I was already fearing John coming up and trying to smarm up to me again only to freeze in surprise as I realized who had called to me. And I realized that there was a _really_ big suit of armor nearby looking positively antsy despite my inability to see the person's face. I also saw that there were some leery looks being shot towards the huge, intimidating armor by parents and awed looks from a few of my schoolmates. Then I grinned.

"Ed!" I trotted over to where the blonde and the tall armored figure stood. "How did you know where I went to school?" I asked of him.

"I didn't," he admitted, blushing. "We got lost trying to find Mrs. Sarah's apartment after getting done at the… ah… library." I grinned as I realized what he was saying. "Hey, this is my brother, Alphonse. Al, this is Dawn, Colonel Mustang's kid."

I eyed the tall armor even as he actually did a little bow. "Nice to meet you," he said, his voice high pitched, which showed he was actually young. He was also _way_ tall, taller than Dad. Perhaps taller than Mr. Armstrong. The armor was bulky and spiky, the helm even decorated with a 'unicorn horn'. It was fanciful, certainly, and decorated only with a white loincloth and a long white crest of hair from the helm aside from the spikes from what I could see.

"Nice to meet you, too," I offered in return. "I can guide you to—" I was interrupted suddenly, wincing as my name was called.

"Dawn!" I grimaced further as I recognized the callout and turned to see a defensive-looking John there.

"What." It came out as a statement more than a question, it was so flat. He blinked at me.

"Um… that's a bad guy."

"How can you tell?" I asked, incredulous. I could practically feel the brothers behind me shifting.

"Because he's scary?"

"So?"

"And you're a girl?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Edward piped up. I could see some of the parents watching like hawks now as well as some teachers. The alchemist's words were droll and John flushed, clearly seeing something he didn't like in Edward (or perhaps Ed's words). "Our teacher's a woman. She's way scarier than Al could ever be." There was a shudder of metal.

"No kidding," Alphonse muttered. I looked over in confusion as I tried to figure out what he'd done to make the sound. "She's terrifying," he explained, obviously sighting my confusion.

"Really?" I wondered, trying to remember anything about such a person. "Um… cool?" Edward snorted, looking confused.

"Are you going to help us to your grandma's or what?" he offered irreverently.

"Brother!"

"Sure, sure." I stepped towards them only to find a hand grasping my wrist. I turned to see John looking worried. "Let go!"

"You don't know them!"

"Of course I know them!" I snarled. He jumped, eyes widening. "So get your hand off me or else!"

"But you're my girlfriend. I gotta…"

His words faltered at my unimpressed look. My first instinct was to yell at him, threaten him, or just put him down. I decided to be nice instead. "John… I'm not your girlfriend." I pulled his hand off of mine, his grip suddenly lax. "You're nice enough, I guess, but… I'm not interested." He looked utterly heartbroken and I felt bad about doing this to him. "Besides, my dad wouldn't let me, and I'm not about to go against him."

"But… we went out together?"

"I… I know. And I tried to not let you buy anything of mine. I don't mind being nice, John, and I don't mind being your friend… but right now some people I know need some help finding my grandmother's home. Because she _invited_ them to stay with her. Have a good afternoon." And like that, I turned on heel and deliberately marched away, leaving the upset John behind with the two clearly uncomfortable boys following after me.

"So… boyfriend?"

"No," I sighed out. "He's still alive, so he's _definitely_ not my boyfriend."

"I don't get the connection," Alphonse asked. I looked over my shoulder with a grimace, pausing at the corner to wait for permission to cross.

"Dad would have fried him. He's kind of protective."

"Oh."

We crossed town, garnering quite a few stares. For the most part, people didn't know who I was except 'that girl' that passed through sometimes. Now I had the two of the most noticeable people in all of East City, especially Alphonse. "Here we are!" I cheered once we got to the appropriate apartment building, flourishing a hand and allowing no sign of my previous bad humor show though I was still bothered by it. "This is Grandma's." I paused and then frowned. "Um, I didn't think about it, but… she might be working right now."

"Is it alright if we're here without her?" asked Alphonse. I was getting the sense he was extremely polite, probably to make up for his very large and intimidating appearance.

"Probably," I hedged. "Better we go and ask, though. Let's go check the grocer." I trotted on, going towards her job, and aware that the two boys were still following. This was kind of fun in all actuality and I really was enjoying myself. Halting outside the greengrocer, I peeked in to see my grandmother there tending the register and brightened. "She's here!" I cheered.

"Now what?"

"I go tell her you're here and ask if it's okay to let you into the apartment."

"You think she will?" Alphonse queried, nervous sounding compared to his droll brother.

"Yeah. What's the worst that can happen? She say 'no'? She won't kill us and eat us." Edward's look was somewhat affronted though Alphonse seemed kind of amused if one considered how he tittered.

"I guess so." Ignoring this assent, I went into the grocer and up to the counter.

"Grandma!"

"Dawn, done with school?"

"Obviously." She snorted, amused, but the look froze as she looked past me.

"Who on earth…?" I glanced to see Ed and Al enter the store, glancing around. The other customers were giving them long looks, too, and I could see the embarrassment on Ed's face.

"That's Ed's brother, Al," I told her solemnly. "We came by to ask if it was okay if I let them in the apartment." Grandma, regaining her composure, nodded and looked at me.

"Of course," she replied with a smile. "I expect they will want to get settled in for a little bit. Would you be kind enough to start working on dinner?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Pork loin, rice, and broccoli. If you'd be so kind to clean the broccoli, please? And start the rice."

"Sure." I guided the pair out of the grocer, grinning. "See? Not bad at all."

"She doesn't look like the Colonel," noted Alphonse.

"That's because it's her mom's mom," Edward replied. "What happened to Mustang's parents?" I looked to him in surprise before shrugging.

"Um… There was an accident? He doesn't like talking about it." Edward's expression turned strange again. "He was raised by his aunt but… they don't talk anymore."

"Why not?" asked Alphonse.

"I never really got a good answer," I admitted. "Do you guys have family?"

"Yes!" Alphonse enthusiastically returned. "Well, not exactly blood-related family. Not anymore. But there's Granny and Winry."

"Yeah? Well, blood-related doesn't mean _that_ much. I mean, Grandma practically adopted Dad. And there's all my unrelated family, too. Dad's subordinates are uncles to me and Aunt Riza's awesome, too. And then there's Uncle Maes and Aunt Gracia…" Edward's odd look was only growing.

"You've got a big family." My smile faded as Alphonse offered a warning 'Brother'.

"I think… I'm going to be adding two more people to it, soon," I mused as I walked on. "I mean, all of Dad's subordinates are family to me… so what's another person or two?" We reached the apartment and went up the stairs, the silence following after my comment not precisely uncomfortable. I unlocked the door and motioned them in. "Besides, I've gotta trust my grandma to you guys," I told them as I secured the door once again.

"We won't hurt her," Alphonse told me as I looked at them.

"I don't think you will," I agreed. "Now… I need to work on dinner. Ed, you know where the spare room is."

"Right."

When Grandma returned home after work, I had spent some time chatting with the two brothers. Alphonse had offered to help though it wasn't necessary and Edward was more or less lurking but not being a problem. I had learned a bit about their pasts and they, in turn, learned that I was an alchemist, too. Alphonse, emboldened by the fact that I was comfortable around him except for the occasional startled stare I gave when unexpectedly confronted by his size, chattered about life in the country and I found myself suddenly jealous of a country life where they were impressed by a city one.

The world was amazing, honestly. Here I was jealous of chickens and playing in fields where they found it amazing I got to go to grand libraries and cinemas.

"I'm glad you three are getting on," Grandma commented as she came in. I beamed at her as Alphonse shifted and Ed blushed.

"Welcome home, Grandma!" I cheered.

"Hi, Mrs. Sarah," greeted Edward.

"It's nice to meet you," Al offered with a little bow. "I'm Alphonse Elric." She smiled at his politeness.

"And you can just call me Mrs. Sarah… or Grandma. I've got that one already doing it." She pointed to me. "That goes for the both of you, but I won't be upset if you don't."

"Thank you, Mrs. Sarah," the large armor acquiesced.

"Have you done what I told you?" she asked of me. I nodded.

"Veggies washed and cut. Rice put in the pot with water, washed, and ready to boil, and I even set up the pork loin in the pan for you."

"Thank you, sweetheart," she smiled before promptly taking over the kitchen duties. I was, at that point, shooed out along with the boys. "Call your father and let him know that you're here."

"Okay!" Once that particular errand was done, I looked to the two boys with a smile. "Can you tell me more about Resembool?" The boys exchanged glances as we sat in the living room, cramped between Al's large armor and the general narrowness to begin with.

"Sure, I guess. There's not much to tell," Edward hedged.

"We were the only alchemists in town," his brother offered. "And we learned mostly on our own." My eyes widened at that.

"You didn't learn from a teacher?" Then I remembered them saying something about a teacher at the school.

"Well, not at first," Al replied. "But later."

"Oh, yeah. You mentioned her. But how did you start?"

"Our father left behind books," Alphonse said though I noticed Ed's expression growing a bit stiff at his words. "And Brother and I learned from them." He sounded pretty proud about that, in fact.

"What was Mr. Elric like?" That was when something odd happened. I couldn't quite define it, but _something_ was odd.

"Our dad wasn't an Elric," Ed told me, frowning and looking very peculiar. I gave him a confused look. "His name was Van Hohenheim." I blinked at the name, realizing it was nothing like the two boys' names.

"That's kind of a neat name," I hedged. "But…" I considered the tone of his voice. "What happened?"

"He abandoned us," Ed spat out, ignoring the disapproving 'Brother' from the tall armor. "Back when we were really little." I mumbled a soft 'oh'. "We carry our mom's name." He gave me a disgruntled look. "At least your dad stayed around."

I didn't really have anything to say to that, looking down at my lap and feeling horrible. "Brother!" hissed Alphonse. "That's not nice."

"I guess it's true, though," I said quietly, drawing their attention. "I mean… he didn't have to keep me. Grandma and Grandpa would have done that easy."

"Why are you three talking about such awful things?" Speak of the woman and she shall come, huh? I looked up to her and saw her disapproving look at the three of us. "Here you are with more things in common than bad family history. Talk about alchemy or something. You're too young to be this down." And she turned and stalked off as I glanced back to the two boys, aware I was blushing. Ed was a bit pink, too. Alphonse shifted, telegraphing embarrassment.

"Your grandma's right," he mumbled finally. "We're… all alchemists. How long have you been practicing?"

"I don't really know. I mean, I wasn't actually allowed to learn until I was eight. Grandma wouldn't let Dad teach me."

"Why not?" Ed asked, baffled.

"Because she thought I was too young. She didn't get a choice when Dad was reassigned to East City and had to take me with him. He bribed me with lessons so long as I didn't tell her." I grinned at the memory.

"What about your grandpa?" asked Edward curiously. "How did he feel about it?"

"He didn't care as much." My smile had dimmed a bit at the reminder of the man I'd adored. "Then again, he was a lot more lenient about a lot of things. He let me climb and drink coffee when Dad wouldn't let me."

"What happened to him?" Al asked curiously. My smile faded further into a wistful shade of itself.

"He died… a while ago. From tuberculosis. I think he was relieved when he died. He didn't hurt anymore." I brightened the grin, aware how painful things were turning again. "He was amazing, too. I mean, like I said, he'd been all for letting me have coffee and he kind of taught Dad about being a dad, too. And he liked annoying Grandma."

"Sounds like he was amazing."

"Yeah. Wish you could have met him. You'd have liked him a lot," I agreed, cheerier with my kinder memories. Using this as a springboard, I babbled inanely about a few other generally happy things before drawing them into talks of alchemy instead of people. In this way, I learned they'd started learning very young at around four and three, that they'd started learning it to impress their mother, and how they had become essential members of the tiny farming town they'd come from, people paying them to repair their things and help keep them taken care of, especially after their mother passed. They talked about their granny, the neighbor, and their best friend, Winry. Then I made the mistake about asking about Winry's parents.

"They died," Al murmured. "In Ishval." I felt my smile falter. "They were doctors…" He broke off again.

And then I remembered. The Rockbell couple, the doctor couple. Dad and Grandma had mentioned them once upon a time in passing. "Dad knew them," I murmured. "Or about them, really. I didn't know. I'm sorry." Awkwardness pervaded the space between us three. In an effort to make it 'better', I offered, "Dad thought they were heroes for still helping people."

"They're still dead," Ed grunted bitterly. The admonishment of 'Brother' silenced him once more. "And isn't Mustang a hero, too?" I winced at remembering that bit of propaganda.

"Yeah, I guess."

Grandma, apparently aware of her granddaughter's and guests' conversation, came in and interrupted us, fussing again. "You three are very depressing," she scolded. Ed's glare was sullen and Alphonse muttered an apology. "Alright, you three. What do you have that's good?" We all looked at her, confused. "I know what Dawn has going for her, mostly because I've helped. But what do _you two_ have that is good in your life? Your grandmother? Your friend?" The two boys looked at each other. "What else?"

"Each other?" offered Alphonse.

"Right," encouraged Grandma. "And what else?" She was met with silence. "You two are idiots," she scolded, earning a surprised glance from all of us. "You have each other, your family, and now us just to count among the various people you have around you. Also, you two are _alive_. I understand some of the situation surrounding Alphonse, not all of it mind you, but enough to know that he's in a very peculiar position and is, at this moment, very lucky to still be here. So are you, Edward. Yes, it's not great that you're enlisted into the military but you've got access to things neither of us could dream of. You're also going to be one of my adoptive son's subordinates, which means you can't find a better place to be. He's responsible for finding you, offering the military, and now making sure you two are kept _safe_."

"Are you sure?" Ed asked, surly but hopeful at the same time.

"Yes, I am. And if he didn't, I'd beat his ass." The swearword caught me by surprise and I looked at her in amazement. So did the two Elric boys. "Don't believe I can?"

"I can," I mumbled, scooting a bit away.

"You could because you've been punished by me before." She snorted in amusement. "I still remember when one time Roy came to drop Dawn off after she'd been sick all night. He'd been exhausted because she hadn't done very well all night. She was just a baby at the time, mind, and he was appropriately foolish himself. I had to bully him to stay and rest for the day or else he'd get sick himself." I certainly didn't remember that and I looked on in interest even as the two boys listened with interest.

It was at this moment, with the smells from the kitchen beginning to fill the apartment, that Dad entered the apartment looking tired. He eyed the pair of boys, then me, and then Grandma. "Hello, everyone," he smiled, hiding some of the weariness. I bounced up to hug him in greeting and he wrapped his free arm around me even as he shook out his coat and hung it up. "Xiao-Hua," he murmured.

"Welcome home."

"Good to be here. What's for dinner, Sarah?" She told him and he smiled a little more genuinely before addressing the two clearly awkward boys. "And how was your first day here in East City?" I disentangled from him as Al responded.

"Very good, sir. Brother and I met Dawn on the way back from the library."

"I heard about that from the school," he mused, glancing at me. "Apparently, they didn't see fit to stop you and verify themselves, hearing through anecdotes of parents who didn't intervene themselves. That annoyed me, actually."

"I can see why," I replied.

"Huh?" Ed asked, confused.

"What if someone came along and took me away?" I replied. "And they just called and said 'oh, this is what happened just in case'?"

"Oh."

"I did advise that I knew the two that you'd gone off with, though. They know now that if you leave the grounds with them, that I know who you're with." I guess something in my expression betrayed me for he added, "And if you leave school before the day is done, I will be having words with _all_ of you."

"Yes, sir," I promptly replied, glancing to the boys. Alphonse echoed me but Ed looked a bit annoyed.

"Why?"

"Unlike yourself, Fullmetal," Dad replied, startling me with the title, "Dawn cannot simply skip out of school. She wishes to be, one day, a veterinarian and zoo designer and that requires an excellent school career if done here in the city. Certainly, she can advance grades, but she still needs that official record."

"Oh." I was blushing at this point and staring at my hands. "Okay."

The conversation again meandered until we were told to get to the table and set it by one amused Grandmother. I gladly took the chance to get away from my encroaching embarrassment considering Dad was able to casually embarrass me in front of two boys that I had admired for a very long time… and was now, horribly, finding somewhat cute. Well, I didn't know about the boy in the armor, but _Edward_ was definitely cute.

Thankfully, my embarrassment was dismissed as something other than the beginnings of a crush (to my utter horror). And we, of course, had dinner. And it was good. It actually astonished me how much Ed put away in a single meal and, if the looks on Dad and Grandma's faces were any indication, it wasn't something that they expected either.

Alphonse sat with us though he didn't eat. He had been forced to explain that he didn't have the ability to eat anymore. Edward had only managed to look more ashamed and more involved with his food, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Grandma, however, did say it was nice of him to sit with us as we ate though she apologized for eating in front of him when he couldn't. Alphonse, the not-so-little gentleman that he was already proving himself to be, readily accepted the apology and said she shouldn't be sorry about it. I, on the other hand, did feel sorry for him even though I didn't say anything. Some of the best moments in life revolved around food and I couldn't _imagine_ not eating.

Still, all in all, it was a good evening and Dad and I left Grandma's after wishing her and her guests a good night. I kinda wished we could stay.

It wasn't until we got home and I'd meandered into my room after a good bath, still toweling my hair dry, that I found myself in a curious quandary.

On my desk was my alchemy book I'd gotten years ago. It was, in fact, the book that I'd gotten when sent to spend summer with my grandparents. With a start, I recalled _who_ gave it to me. It was a sad-eyed man who had called himself 'Van'. I was amazed further when I realized that he had the same color hair and even the same color _eyes_ as Edward, and Edward had, just this night, said his father's name was 'Van Hohenheim'. Was it the same man? Was it the same 'Van'? I didn't know.

I did pick up the book and take it to my father, who was settling down to read and listen to one of his favorite records. "Dad?"

"Yes, Xiao-Hua?" He looked up and I held out the book.

"This book. Remember it?" He blinked at it, taking it from me and flipping through it.

"Yes, I do," he mused, closing it. "What about it?" I quickly told him everything I wondered at and what the Elric boys had divulged to me. I even added, when I remembered, that Mr. Van had sons about my age.

"What if this book is their dad's?" I asked cautiously. He considered it for a long moment and, after a bit, I sat down next to him.

"It could be," he agreed. "But it also might not be. It wouldn't hurt to ask, I suppose."

"I'm not so sure," I returned. "Ed seems to not really like his dad."

"I suppose he wouldn't," Dad mused thoughtfully. He gave me back the book and I took it. "I know you wouldn't like me as much if I stayed away for years and years." I cracked a smile at that.

"You did come back, so we'll never know."

"Right." Like that, he cuddled me close and kissed me on my still-damp hair. "Love you, Xiao-Hua."

"Love you, too, Dad." He hummed.

"I miss the days where you called me 'Daddy'." I blinked up at him, confused. "It means you're growing up and needing me less."

"I don't need you less!" I protested.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" I hugged him, though it was awkward. "Always!" He chuckled.

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Thanks for reading. **Please review.**


	18. In Which There Are Strained Relations

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: I'm sorry it's taken so long to post an update to this story. Real life and lack of muse has made it quite difficult to write, especially as I'd scrapped so much. That being said, I'm getting some movement on this story again and, as such, I've got two chapters for you as a bit of an apology. I promise next chapter will start on the divergent stuff.

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Chapter 18: In Which There Are Strained Relations

Edward and Alphonse were awesome. In fact, my father didn't really begrudge me wanting to spend time with them, seeing it as beneficial for all of us. Ed and Al especially needed someone to relate to that was their age.

School, however, was possibly even more boring. After returning the next day from taking them to Grandma's, Laura, Amy, and Jackie all pestered me about the two I'd left with. Many of the other students who had witnessed the scene had also paid attention when I talked a little about the boys, careful to not give away anything really bad or condemning. I liked my new friends. I didn't want to alienate them just to spread their story to a bunch of nosy schoolchildren. It didn't matter that I, too, was one of those children, but at least I already respected Ed and his brother. Those two had gone through more than anyone else I knew at school. They'd gone through more than _I_ had.

So, I felt it was best to keep a majority of details to myself.

Unfortunately, Alphonse's armored body made it very hard to convince _anyone_ that he was Ed's younger brother. Ed was right at _my_ height, so it was 'obvious' to them that Ed was the younger brother. Annoyed and irritated by the lack of honest _listening_ , I basically let them have it.

No, I did not verbally attack them. I just let them assume what they wished to. At this point, they were convinced Alphonse was Edward, Ed was Al, and the new alchemist wasn't, in fact, twelve. I didn't care. I would have gamely agreed that the moon was made of cheese at this point despite the fact I knew differently.

What startled me was the question aimed at me next. "Why did you lie?"

"What?" I was honestly baffled by Laura's question.

"Why did you lie about his age?" I blinked, sighting a lurking John off to one side before returning my full attention to Laura.

"Who's age?"

"The alchemist?" I was apparently slow on the uptake today because I couldn't help but ask another question.

"Which alchemist? I know lots."

"The one that just became a _State_ Alchemist!" Amy snorted derisively. I understood then. "He's way too big to be twelve!"

"Oh." It was a soft sound and I blinked owlishly before going on. "Well…" I wanted to ask what it mattered. They weren't going to be involved with either Elric. "I didn't mean to." It was a lie. I hadn't lied before but it was easier to lie now.

"It's bad to lie," chastised Laura in a superior manner. "Mom always says so."

"I know," I groused defensively.

"Then don't anymore," she commanded like she had all the answers. It set with me uneasily and I nodded, not sure what else to do.

After school that day, I meandered away from school with a mind consumed by worries. As such, I didn't realize I was walking into someone until far too late. "Well, hello to you, too, Rosie!" I looked up in surprise at the smiling face of my uncle and my eyes widened as I registered who I was looking at.

"Uncle Maes!" I squealed delightedly.

"Yes, ma'am!" he teased. "How are you doing, Rosie?"

"I'm doing great," I grinned, feeling much better now that I realized he was here. "Wait… Why are you here?" He circled my shoulders with an arm as we went walking on.

"Well, I've got work here in East City," he admitted. "I work for the Tribunals now, remember?" I remembered and nodded.

"Who messed up bad enough they sent you?"

"No one you need to worry about," he smiled as we walked.

"How's Aunt Gracia?" I asked.

"Good. She's been doing very well and is very excited about the baby."

"Are you excited?"

"Of course." He said it very warmly but I wasn't entirely sure if he was lying or not. "Are you?"

"Yes! I've always wanted a cousin."

"Do you hope for a boy or a girl?"

"I don't care. I'll play with them either way." Uncle Maes looked thoroughly pleased about that even as I went on. "Um, did you catch that Butcher guy?"

"I can't do that personally, Rose," he chided. "But I can say that they caught him recently. They'll send out a statement to the papers soon." I sighed in relief, thinking about the man who had been terrorizing Central and killing men and women in gruesome manners. He'd been butchering them like hogs, which was honestly horrifying, and I was glad he'd been caught.

Since Ishval, Uncle Hughes had gone into more of a peace-keeping stint. He hadn't become military police but he was a part of investigations and worked with the system to catch and transport criminals among, doubtless, heaps of paperwork. If he was here now, that meant he was probably going to be escorting a criminal back to Central. That meant that it was a bad enough criminal that he or she had to face a grander court. Often, it was those that did something wrong in the military that wound up in this situation.

"That's good," I replied.

"Is something bothering you, Rosie?" he asked as we went along towards the apartment. I hesitated and knew he saw it.

"Yes?"

"What?"

"I just… I don't know how to explain it." He paused, his fingers halting me as well.

"What do you mean?" When I didn't immediately respond, he stepped around in front of me and crouched to look back up into my face. "Rose?"

"I… The people in my school think I'm a liar."

"About?"

"Edward." He blinked. "He and Al came by the school the other day and wanted to know how to get to Grandma's. It kind of created a scene and I went off with them to show them the way. When I came back to school, they started pestering me with questions. I kind of shrugged it off, not really wanting to tell everyone everything about them, but they pestered me a lot. And I told them some more after that, keeping it as basic as possible. But they don't believe me when I say Ed's twelve and that he's _not_ the big suit of armor."

"Big suit of armor?" Uncle Maes parroted. I nodded. "Wait, give me some context?"

"Dad hasn't told you?" I wondered. He shook his head.

"No. I expect that's what he intends to do tonight. He invited me to stay at your place for the evening so I didn't have to waste money on a hotel room…" He gave me a peculiar look. "What about them?"

"Other than they're alchemy geniuses?"

"You're a genius, Rose," he pointed out. I shook my head.

"Not like them. I'm just… _tinkering_ compared to Edward." He hummed thoughtfully. "But I don't think I should tell you. If Dad wants to, he can."

"I see." He smiled oddly. "You friends with them?"

"I think so. But it doesn't seem right that I get two new friends only to… have problems with my old ones." And his smile faded. I felt ashamed and appreciated it when he grasped my shoulder with one hand.

"You know that sometimes people change, Rosie." I nodded. "Perhaps they're changing. Perhaps you're changing, too. But that's okay. It's not bad. If they're really good friends, they'll still stay close even if they don't always understand."

"But what if they're not good friends?" I asked.

"Then… you move on I suppose." He sighed. "I don't know, Rose. It's a sticky and not very fair situation. There's no right or wrong answer." He was right. It definitely didn't sound very fair at all. I wished it was easier and I sighed even as he straightened up. "Come on."

"Alright."

.

We did eventually make it to the apartment and Uncle Maes pretty much immediately claimed the couch despite the fact it was hardly long enough for him to sleep on. I was willing to give up my bed and sleep with Dad for the night, but he shrugged off my offer and went to the linen cabinet to locate the things he'd need for the night. I, however, went to start dinner.

When Dad got home, they talked about the situation with the Elrics and, of course, Alphonse's status as a suit of armor. I listened as they talked, Dad swearing Uncle Maes to silence about the incident and to keep an eye out for the brothers when they invariably went to Central. "Eventually, I will have to send them out. They're looking for a way to repair their bodies and I'd… be remiss to keep them from having every chance they could get," he had explained to the sober man across from him.

"Right," Uncle Maes breathed in agreement. "So, these kids…" He shook his head. "And you couldn't say anything over the phone for risking the lines and possible listeners." Dad nodded.

"Fullmetal's said that his automail came about due to Ishval. I did check the records. His hometown was attacked."

"And that town?"

"Resembool." Uncle Maes's expression twisted slightly.

"I remember that place," he mused. "I boarded the train back to Central after the war… The station was burned, I remember." Dad nodded.

"I didn't know that."

"I barely remember it myself. Perhaps I even saw those two back then?" Dad made a noncommittal half-agreeing noise. "I don't remember if I did, though."

"There's no telling," Dad replied. "And there's no telling if they would remember you, anyway. I'm not asking you to go out of your way when they're in your backyard, Hughes. Just… keep an eye out when they're around. I have a feeling those two are going to get in and out of trouble regularly."

"That's something else. Why are you calling the kid 'Fullmetal'?" Uncle Maes asked. "Isn't that a little… ostentatious?" Dad grunted, not at all looking very happy but I certainly paid attention. I wanted to know the answer, too.

"Edward Elric has a very… _rebellious_ streak," Dad said slowly. "He already has shown himself to be very stubborn and he attacked the Fuhrer outright at his test even if he did pull up short." Uncle Maes gave him a shocked look.

"He did?!" Dad nodded and went on.

"Part of the reason I call him 'Fullmetal' is because he needs to know he's on a chain now." He took his own pocket watch off the belt loop of his pants and held it up. "Even if it _is_ made of silver," he groused. "It's a chain. A tie to the military. And the kid has to respect that or else he'll get court marshaled or perhaps even _jailed_ before he can find that 'cure' for him and his brother. And I honestly hope he'll find it."

"You're trying to give them an easy ride," Uncle Maes noted. Dad nodded as he disgustedly dropped his watch on the table before him.

"Yes," he admitted, watching as I picked it up to look at it. "I am. Be careful with that, Xiao-Hua."

"I am, Dad," I agreed. I knew how important it was. I knew that the watch was all the true identification Dad had that he was in fact the Flame. I knew, also, that if I lost it I'd be in loads of trouble because _Dad_ would be in even _more_ trouble. The ideal was that, if the watch broke, it would be brought in to be fixed or replaced. If lost, that was when the trouble started.

Still, it was such a small thing to cause so much trouble. The watch was an emblem of those who had achieved a status that was very exclusive though, equally, very burdensome. State Alchemists were now referred to as 'human weapons' and many civilian alchemists who had once been alright with alchemists joining the military now held distaste for those very people.

Under my fingers, the embossed crest of the State Alchemists glinted in the light.

.

"I wish I could go with you guys," I complained. Edward and Alphonse were heading towards the library. There were places in the library I couldn't visit and, usually, Al couldn't visit. Dad had gotten him special dispensation to do so but he couldn't do the same for me.

"Why?" Edward asked blankly. It was several weeks later and the cold was setting in, everyone bundling into coats and breath puffing white.

"Because it'd be more fun than going to Grandma's," I replied.

"Then why are you following us if you're going there?"

"Brother!"

"Because I thought _maybe_ I could visit the normal section of the library." Ed rolled his eyes. "And maybe lurk around until you guys leave."

"Why don't you go spend time with your friends?"

"Brother! That wasn't nice at all! We're her friends, too!" exclaimed the tall armor. I, however, winced. When I spoke of anything offhand about the brothers to my school friends, I got vaguely annoyed looks from them. They thought I was either flaunting or was still 'lying', I wasn't entirely sure. I just knew they didn't like talking about the 'not-twelve-year-old' Edward, the supposedly armored 'man' that had occasionally come with his 'younger' brother in the red coat to walk with me after school. Ed and Al still didn't know about the problems I was having, something I was going to avoid telling them about at all costs because it wasn't _their_ fault I was having those problems. I was also a bit glad that they didn't see me wince.

"Yeah, yeah," grumped the short blonde boy. I'd also discovered Edward apparently had a thing against being 'short' or any synonym of the word 'short'. I didn't want to tell him the truth, that he _was_ in fact short as we were of a similar height and I was a year younger than him and a girl besides, but I figured he was aware of it. "I still can't believe Mustang had a kid that was loads more decent than he is."

That was something else. Ed's attitude towards my father involved a lot of irritation. I didn't know why as neither one of them would explain it, but I did know Dad was bemused by Edward's grumpiness.

"I still can't believe Dad has a subordinate that gets away with being so _insubordinate_ ," I chirped at him and he gave me a sour look in return. I smirked, aware my amusement was obvious. He scowled at me in return.

"I take it back," Ed grumped. "You're worse than him."

"He's my hero," I shrugged. "But I don't mind if you badmouth him, Ed. Just don't do it in front of anyone that matters."

"Why don't you care if he's mean to your dad?" asked Alphonse, baffled.

"Because Dad doesn't care. I think he thinks it's funny so long as Ed doesn't do it in front of someone who wouldn't understand." Edward was not pleased with this news.

"He thinks it's just a game?! He… He insults me all the time!"

"I didn't say that. And are you _sure_ he does?"

"He doesn't. Brother's just easy to rile," Alphonse replied. I snorted in amusement, glancing at the tall armor. I had also discovered he was incredibly relaxed for the most part and quite pragmatic. I supposed it had something to do with a very excitable brother and maybe something to do with the fact he really didn't have any choice but spend time to think.

It had been horrifying to find out from my _very_ upset grandmother that Alphonse Elric had no ability to _sleep_ on top of lacking the ability to eat, feel, smell, and other _basic_ body functions. Al had gotten permission from her to leave a light on in her living area and read just to pass the time. I couldn't imagine not having the relief of sleep at _all_ and admired him for staying sane for over a year.

"Al!" Ed protested, looking betrayed.

"It's true, Brother. If the Colonel says anything that could remotely be interpreted as an insult, you take offense to it. He's not that bad." Hearing this, I couldn't help but laugh. The blonde gave me an irritated look at that.

"Got something to say?"

"Yeah. You probably need to eat something," I replied benignly. "You're getting irritable again." Al sniggered at that.

"Brother's always irritable and can always eat something," he agreed. "You might be onto something."

"Why are you two being so mean to me?" demanded the churlish boy.

"Ed, you make it too easy," I told him. "You get angry over every little thing. Of _course_ you'll think Dad targets you all the time." He didn't respond, leading the way into the library. I looked up to Alphonse as his older brother stormed off. "I'll go over to the public section of alchemy," I told him. "Okay?"

"Are you sure?" asked Alphonse. "I don't want you to be alone and bored." I shrugged.

"If I get bored, I'll go read veterinary books… or maybe some story books. Just look? Grandma knows I was going to spend part of today with you guys, so it'll be fine." Al hemmed and hawed a little longer before going on after his brother, not wishing to be left behind.

I quickly went over to the section I spoke of, pulling out a few things from my ever-present satchel. The solemn air of the library was a comforting thing, something I had no issue at all absorbing. There was a smell of paper, binding, and ink along with a hint of dust. Tables were strategically placed through the library, many with reading lights, and there were some standalone chairs I could have settled at. I did, however, choose a table and then grabbed some books that I held an interest in.

Reading was a long-held pastime and I lost myself to studying alchemy and how it might be useful in reformatting various exhibits with ease. As such, I didn't know how much time passed when I was interrupted. It could have been hours, honestly, but I was a little cross when I was distracted by someone calling my name.

I blinked owlishly at Amy and her family. "What are you doing here?" I asked blankly.

"Visiting the library, of course!" Amy replied. "And you?"

"Uh, studying alchemy."

"We'll be over there, dear," Amy's mother noted and I watched as my friend's two younger siblings were tugged along. Amy just sat down across from me, pulling one of my books to her. It was the book Mr. Van had written and I felt a bit nervous about her messing with it but allowed her to look.

"I don't even understand this stuff," complained Amy. I hummed, finishing one of my notations in a quick pencil. "And is this one of the library books? It doesn't look like anything I've seen before. It's… like a journal."

"No, it doesn't belong to the library," I replied. "It's mine."

"That's not your handwriting." She looked at my open journal as a point. "Is it something of your dad's?" I shook my head.

"No. I got it from another alchemist who I met once years ago." I hadn't gotten around to showing it to Ed and Al yet, mostly because I wasn't sure if it honestly belonged to their father, and I wasn't sure how they'd react to it. "Dad let me keep it."

"Huh." She slid it back before picking another book to pull to herself. "So, where's your Dad?"

"Busy doing some things," I shrugged. "He's got errands to run and he said it was okay if I…" I faltered and cut myself off. "He knew I wanted to come to the library and is fine with it so long as I'm home at a decent time."

"And your grandma?"

"She didn't mind, either. It was either this or visit her. And she would have probably dragged me along on errands, too."

"Fun," mused Amy. "Mom's a housewife, so she doesn't really do anything but keep everything neat in the house." I hummed, aware my grandmother had once been the same. "So we usually have free time on the weekends, which is why she takes us here to pick out some new books to read."

"That's always fun." Amy nodded in agreement and she seemed uncomfortable. I didn't know why… but then again _I_ felt uncomfortable. And, naturally, an uncomfortable silence fell between us. I tried to break it without making it awkward. "I was thinking about reading some zoology books. Maybe check one or two out that I haven't read through yet."

"Don't you do anything fun?" I looked up in surprise. "It's always studying for you. Why?"

"I don't just study," I defended. Amy didn't look very believing. "I don't."

"Then what do you do that's _fun_?"

"Well…" I faltered. "This is fun for me, but… I like climbing. And I like football. I like to read and make up stories. I… I like to spend time with my family, too. And my friends. I don't have to be doing something specifically 'fun' to have fun." Amy looked skeptical and I dropped my gaze to my journal, not feeling very enthused anymore.

"You're not normal." I winced, not daring to look up. "I don't mean that bad," my friend said, backpedaling a bit. "But… you're _not_. You're younger than everyone else in our class and… you're always bored _in_ class. You don't…" She halted. "I wish I was as smart as you. You're always showing off in class and to the teachers." I looked up, astonished. "And you make it all look so _easy_ and you're _younger_." She actually looked bitter.

"I don't show off!" I hissed, mindful that this _was_ a library. Amy's look soured further.

"Yes, you do, Dawn. Your dad is a big alchemist and a _Colonel_ , you are a year advanced and you could go further but don't because you like lording it over us, and you make up tall stories all the time."

"Like _what_?!" I sputtered. "I don't make up stories!"

"You lied about those alchemists, you say you understand alchemy but there's _no way_ you could do that and you've _never_ used alchemy!"

"Yes, I have! Dad told me not to use it outside his supervision because he's afraid I'll be _hurt_!" Amy's look was disbelieving.

"And you're a liar." This was cutting me and my eyes burned slightly. "I don't see how anyone believes you."

"Dawn?" I flinched and turned only to be startled by the huge form of Alphonse and Edward. They were standing a bit back and looking a bit worried. "What's going on?" asked Edward.

"Nothing. Nothing," I lied quickly, embarrassed. It honestly didn't sound very convincing to me, though. "Are you done?"

"Yeah. It wasn't that productive." I started gathering up my things and the books I didn't think I'd take, and the two boys came forward.

"Need help?" asked Alphonse.

"Yeah. Please. I need to put these books up." I picked up the books and found Al relieving them from my hands as Amy stood up and backed away awkwardly. "Thanks, Al."

"You're welcome. Oh, these were some good books."

"I think so, too."

"I'll put them away." He clanked off.

"Dawn?" I turned at the mystified sound of Ed's voice. "Where did you get this?" I blinked and realized he had Mr. Van's book.

"Oh, um…" And I shouldn't have just left it, but too late now. "I got it from someone a few years ago," I admitted. "After I took a trip to Central to stay with Grandma and Grandpa back before Grandpa passed and during a summer break. Dad needed me away so he could learn his fire alchemy and didn't want to risk me being toasted, I guess." Ed snorted in amusement but the look on his face was concerned.

"Who was the person who gave it to you?" he asked.

"Um, he didn't really… tell me. He said to call him Mr. Van."

"Are you the State Alchemist?" We turned to look at Amy who was looking pointedly at Alphonse who had returned from shelving books… rather than Edward.

"No," Al said, shifting slightly now that he was unburdened of the books. "That's Brother. I'm not a State Alchemist. I don't think I'd be good enough to join, either." Amy stared in shock at the much less impressive Edward who was looking at her sourly. He then openly dismissed her.

"This is our father's handwriting."

"What?!" Al, who hadn't been privy to the words previously spoken and my own eyes widened as my thoughts were confirmed.

"I… I wasn't sure, but I'd guessed. He gave it to me, said he had sons… Said I was about their age, but… I didn't know." It was one of my greatest treasures and I hesitated before offering, "If you want it, you can have it. It wouldn't be right for me to keep it from you. It might even have something useful…"

Ed's look was sour and his now-gloved hands visibly tightened on the thin volume. Then he snorted a derisive sound and pushed it into my hands.

"The bastard gave it to you," he sneered but I had a feeling it wasn't directed at me.

"Where did you see him?" Al asked. I looked at him.

"On a train to Central."

"Was he okay?" These were two wildly different reactions to this one man and I wondered why they were so different.

"I guess. He seemed sad. I… I didn't really spend time talking to him and… this was some time ago. I'm sorry, Al." He honestly looked crestfallen despite not having a face.

"And who are you?" Ed asked rather rudely of Amy.

"Brother!" admonished Alphonse, snapping into 'polite' mode.

"A-Amy," mumbled my… sort-of friend. "But… you can't be a State Alchemist!"

"Why not?" She blinked. "Why can't I be an alchemist? Or even a _State_ Alchemist. I have the watch." He even showed it to her. "Why can't I be?"

"Because… you're too small." I flinched as Edward's fury exploded across his face.

" _Who're you calling a pipsqueak?!_ "

.

I clutched my bag to me as I stood, horrified, on the front steps of the library. Next to me stood a shell-shocked Alphonse and an angry Edward. "They threw us out," I whispered. We weren't the only ones that had been unceremoniously ejected. After Ed's explosion, Amy's family had appeared along with the librarians. The librarians, of course, wanted us out for making such a disruptive noise and disturbing other library-goers. Amy's mother looked offended by some of the choice words Ed spoke while he was firmly escorted to the door.

No one dared to throw out Alphonse but it was obvious he was amicable compared to the mouthy Edward. I was marched out as well, a firm hand on my shoulder guiding me along, and Amy and her family were told to leave as they were involved in the scene, too.

"You, young man, are very rude," scolded Amy's mother, angry that she and her family had been ejected alongside the mouthy blonde. Ed gave her a poisonous look.

"Well, your daughter's rude, too. Come on, guys." I was doubly worried now as Amy gave Ed a pithy look. Edward didn't care, obviously. He stomped off. "Who was that girl?" asked the annoyed blonde.

"Well… she was kind of my friend," I admitted a bit sullenly, glancing behind us. Ed immediately looked apologetic… sort of.

"Oh. I… She shouldn't have said that about me."

"I know." My words were quiet as I clutched my bag to me.

"She'll be okay, right?" asked Alphonse. "She'll still be your friend, right?" I didn't know and I didn't answer. Immediately, the tall armor began to fret. "Oh, we should have apologized!" he worried.

"It's okay, Al. The librarians will forgive you guys for making noise."

"But what about your friend?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"If she's your friend, she'll forgive you," Ed snorted. But I honestly didn't think she was. "We've had worse fights with Winry."

"The next door friend?" I asked curiously. He nodded.

"Yeah. And we've forgiven _her_ loads of times, too."

"Brother, it's usually _her_ forgiving _us_."

"Yeah, yeah." I offered a watery smile but I didn't feel better.

"But he's right, Dawn. Everything will be fine. Just you wait."

.

Amy didn't forgive me even if it had been her that started all of this, and I guessed it was because she'd been thoroughly embarrassed at the library, too, and blamed me for it. I didn't realize exactly how many people I really interacted with during a school day but I quickly noticed it was very limited when Amy pointedly avoided me. Laura looked confused when she had sat down with me only to realize that Amy had split off and Jackie, conflicted, eventually went to sit with Amy instead of us.

"What's going on?" Laura asked. We sat closer together than Amy and Jackie so I guessed Laura hadn't been privy to the tale Amy had spoken. Jackie, however, had. I poked at my lunch, disinterested.

"Do you think I'm a showoff?" Laura blinked.

"Well, yeah, but…" I sighed. "Is that what this is about?" she asked.

"Do you think I'm a compulsive liar, too?" I asked bitterly. This time she didn't answer. "Did you know that Amy hates me?" Laura looked at me with concern. "This weekend, I went to the library with Edward and Alphonse. I wasn't permitted in the restricted section, the one meant for only State Alchemists, so I sat in the main area and read up on some alchemy because I like to study independently even if I have to practice with Dad. Amy came with her family and she sat with me for a while. She… basically hates me. It went worse when Ed and Al returned and she basically insulted Ed by saying he couldn't possibly be a State Alchemist because he was too short. Then Ed kind of yelled and we all got thrown out."

Laura stared. "Er… Really?"

"Yeah." I took a half-hearted bite of my food. "And on the front steps, Amy's mom told him off and then he told _her_ off about Amy. So, Amy hates me _more_ now." I ate a bit more, taking out my frustration on the food before me.

It also tasted really good because, guess what? I was hungry.

"Really?"

"Yeah, because, big surprise, Ed hates being called _short_."

"Huh?"

"And Al's not really the sort to be too hard on his big brother." Laura was now looking baffled. "And they know now I've got a book of their dad's, whom they've not seen in ages, which makes this all _worse_ because Ed's got a chip on his shoulder and Al's a bit better but… Everything just went _wrong_ and apparently I'm a liar, I can't do alchemy, and I'm a damned showoff." Laura gasped as I savagely bit my sandwich.

"Miss Mustang!" I choked, sputtered, and managed to hack out the bit of food I'd nearly inhaled. Then I turned to see a very angry teacher. "With me! Now!"

The fingers on my ear kind of insisted upon it and I went if only to keep my ear from being stretched out.

.

"I'll make sure she learns not to use foul language anymore," Dad was saying to the principal as I sat quietly in a chair next to him. "I don't know why she said such a thing in the first place." Even though I wanted to protest, the words wouldn't come.

"Do so. That kind of language is both unbecoming and completely unladylike. That is not the kind of image our school wishes to uphold." I'd also been spanked by the principal and kept out of classes for the rest of the day, not saying another word after I'd been hauled into the office by one ear. I honestly bet I'd not get the schoolwork I had missed over the course of the day, either.

They said some other fairly stern things until Dad escorted me out of the office and out of the school. "Why did you do that?" he hissed at me, holding my arm. When I didn't speak up, he jostled me slightly. "Dawn, _answer me_. You know that you're not supposed to swear." When I didn't have the ability to summon up a proper reply once again, he growled angrily. I just let him guide me on home where he sat me down and stared at me in a demanding way. "I was called away from work _early_ , Dawn. Over you using _swearwords_ in _school_. Why are you doing this? Why did you say it?" He critically eyed me as I sat staring at the floor. "Answer, Dawn."

My eyes, as he demanded his answers, had begun to burn until I either would risk the chance of having tears exposed either by me trying to wipe them away or them falling from my face unchecked. It wasn't the tears that gave me away but rather a shuddering breath.

"Dawn?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered after another sobbing intake of air. "I… I didn't want to bother you with it."

"With _what_?"

"My friends at school…" He patiently waited while I tried to get my words together. "They think I'm a liar… and a showoff…"

"Why?" So I told him everything, explaining, going over each moment, and then finally expunging all of the pain I'd felt for over a _month_ when it came to the general disbelief about the boys I'd befriended and, now, my ability for alchemy being called into question.

By the end of it, I was sobbing and asking him for forgiveness for not telling him sooner as he sat and listened with a critical ear. "I'm sorry, Dawn," he finally said and I swarmed into his arms for a hug. He did hug me, of course, and he stroked at my hair. "It doesn't make it okay that you used swearwords."

"I know," I mumbled into his shirt. "But…" I broke off again and his grip on me tightened.

"I try very hard not to let others hear my foul words," he told me. "Granted, I slip before you and your grandmother, and I know how often I swear around your uncle… But I try to not show anyone else I'm anything less than a perfect gentleman. I don't utter those words where others can possibly hear." He loosened his grip and drew me back so he could look at me. "I understand why you did, but you have to understand you can't speak like that in public."

I nodded, understanding what he was saying. "Can… I advance again?"

"What?"

"Can I take placement tests again and get advanced further… so I don't have to… to stay in school? I'm just… too different."

"You're no more different than I was at your age," he assured me. "I was usually odd-one-out, too."

"But you had friends."

"I know," he smiled. "And you do, too."

I sighed. "Just Ed and Al… and _maybe_ Laura still."

"It'll get better. Who's to say that Amy and Jackie won't stick with you still?"

"I do."

"You're being pessimistic."

"You don't know how it felt to be accused of being a habitual liar," I groused. He fell quiet at that.

"Have you lied?" he asked after a moment. I sighed.

"Not really. I mean, when people didn't believe me about Edward, I just kind of let them believe what they wanted to."

"And that was?"

"They thought _Alphonse_ was the real State Alchemist." He hummed thoughtfully. "And that the 'real' State Alchemist wasn't really twelve but older. I just let them believe whatever they wanted. It was easier than constantly correcting them. And then I apparently lie about my alchemy, too, because I never used it where they could see." He blinked at that. "Which I don't do because I shouldn't at school and if I do use it there, everyone will pester me about it. Teachers might either punish me or use me to get out of using the repair alchemists. And the principal would be the same."

Dad sighed wearily before settling back in his seat. "I see… Well, I can't quite let this go unpunished."

"Grounded?"

"No… Just a spanking."

"I got one from the principal already." One I'd not uttered a peep at even if I wanted to. He nodded, unknowing of the full events after lunch.

"I know. Now, bend over the dining chair."

.

School didn't improve, I would soon learn. Despite the fact that Dad refuted me the right to advance, I was growing increasingly isolated. Amy and Jackie didn't come near, preferring to use the cold shoulder. Laura, caught in the middle between them and the 'baby' of the class, me, was trying to be friendly with both sides of the argument. I was being left alone more and more. My only solace was outside of school among the adults in my life and the Elric brothers.

"Why don't you look at it?" I offered, holding out the journal. "You said you learned alchemy from your dad's books. This might have something new in it for you." Edward did not look very enthused even if Alphonse took it delicately.

"Is there something useful?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. There's stuff I don't dare touch yet simply because I don't have enough basis of information," I replied to the tall armor's question. "There's notes about this thing called rentanjutsu in there. I've scoured the libraries around here and there's _nothing_ about it at _all_." I took the journal back, flipping it open to the section in question. "Look, it's a five-point array," I showed them. "And there's notes in here about how it's for _medical_ alchemy. I don't know that much about medical alchemy, other than it isn't a common study here in Amestris because, for some reason, the stuff is _really hard_ for everyday alchemists and any really advanced stuff is probably State Alchemist secrets, but what if this is a good way to get you both on the road of healing?"

I could see it had sparked Ed's interest then. "Do you know of any State Alchemists that are good at medicine?" he asked.

"Not in East City that I'm aware of," I mused. "Maybe in Central or some other major city where State Alchemists are more likely at, but not here. Dad would have likely said something to you if that was the case. You _could_ try asking him about it, in the event he didn't think about it." Edward frowned slightly, looking at the part of the journal I'd opened up. Then he pulled it to him.

"It doesn't seem like a very complete thing," he mused, golden gaze intent. "I didn't even realize there were big differences between our alchemy and other countries' alchemy." His eyes were sweeping the words intently, concentration evident. "And some of it is in _Xingese_ ," he complained. "Is that why you have bits of paper in here?" He flicked a scrap tucked into it with my own writing on it.

"Yeah. They're translations. I went to find dictionaries and there's not a lot of actual Xingese through this."

"I didn't even _know_ Dad knew another language," marveled Alphonse as he leaned forward.

"I wonder," Edward murmured. "Wait, this can't all be translations." I felt my cheeks grow hot.

"Well, some of the stuff wasn't very complete. I can't add all that much to the rentanjutsu stuff, but I could add to our alchemy and I could at least _theorize_ on the rentanjutsu."

"What a weird name," grumbled Edward. "What does it even _mean_?"

"As close as I can tell? 'Jutsu' means 'art'. 'Rentan' is something similar to 'making elixirs' or something. It more or less works out to being 'the Art of Making Elixirs'." Both boys seemed surprised by my words. It _was_ kind of hard to see what was going through Alphonse's head. "From what I learned in the really old books, the Xingese didn't really use alchemy when they started to practice rentanjutsu. This seems to be a modern version of their potion-making art."

"We need to learn more!" Edward's sudden enthusiasm towards the subject seemed to completely override his distaste for his father. It wasn't wholly unsurprising considering this _might_ be useful information. "Why isn't there more information on it in the library? I've not seen anything yet on this."

"I dunno," I defended. "I mean, maybe it is and you weren't _looking_ for it. Maybe it's not there because it's considered too dangerous for public consumption without proper training. Or maybe it's like State Alchemist secrets, where they're proprietary secrets of _Xing_. All I know is that it _isn't_ in the public sections of the libraries here in East City and _probably_ not in the main libraries in Central, because I used to study there, too, and didn't see anything about this _there_."

There was a long moment as Ed was scanning through all the pages of the book. "Man, this really _is_ a lot of half-formed ideas. It's a miracle you got _anything_ out of this."

"But it is a starting point," Alphonse encouraged. "But it doesn't make sense if they're proprietary secrets of Xing if apparently Dad learned them in even a _small_ way."

"He could have made observations," Edward mused, golden eyes still fastened on the pages. "But I have no idea when he _went_ there. Was this trip to Xing the reason he ditched us?" He was looking bitter again, scowling fiercely at the pages.

"Brother, maybe so, but at least we have this bit of knowledge thanks to Dawn. At least she's offering it to us." The elder brother heaved a sigh.

"Yeah."

-/-/-/-

Thank you for reading. **Please review.**


	19. In Which a Little Trust Develops

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA at all. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This is the second chapter I'm posting this round. I encourage reviews on both this and the previous chapter, mostly so I know what comments/reviews go with which chapter. I also want to say that since I'm incorporating bits of foreign language into this chapter, I may have translated things wrong as Google Translate is fairly limited. **If you believe I've translated wrongly, please review or PM me.**

-/-/-/-

Chapter 19: In Which a Little Trust Develops (Perhaps)

Dad wouldn't let me test out. Grandma even said that the problems in school would eventually resolve, but that didn't mean that things got better. Laura had initially wavered between me and the other two, but wound up spending more time with them as they were making new friends with others that were 'cooler', one of whom was the school's athletic star she liked.

I just wound up isolated.

Most of my off time would be spent within the library doing homework before I ever got home. That way, I could read up on alchemy and try to help in some _small way_ to expedite Edward and Alphonse's healing. After some small convincing, I'd learned what exactly they'd done that night over a year ago and how they'd been injured. Said story had left me with _nightmares_ after that. At least they'd been _vague_ nightmares, but they'd still had me starting awake in fright at night.

Walking away from the building after yet another lonely day of school, I knew it would be worthless to explain to my father I _wanted_ to get out of it for very good reason. I wasn't just trying to 'grow up too fast' or something. I was turning in perfect work, trying to prove that this all was too easy for me, but he wasn't budging on his stance. Unlike me, many students were chattering with each other and some were even playing and having fun. I had none of that.

At least I was being given the cold shoulder rather than being hurt physically by my former friends.

Like usual when they were in town, Ed and Al were waiting outside. I immediately found a smile on my lips, moving to meet with them. "Hey!" I cheerily greeted. Ed's lips quirked even as Alphonse greeted me.

"Hi, Dawn! How are you today?"

"Much better now that I'm out of school," I told him. "How has your studying gone today?"

"Got nowhere important," Ed mused as we began walking away from my school.

"Well, I have a few ideas that I know won't work, but might give you _new_ ideas," I offered carefully. Edward frowned at that.

"What do you mean?" asked Alphonse. "If they don't work, why would they give us ideas?"

"Well, you told me your story about how you guys got hurt, right?" I noted.

"Yeah?" Ed asked. "What about it?" He hadn't really wanted to go over it with me, but had relented when I'd pointed out there might be useful information in the telling.

"Well, the reason is that I know you won't do what I came up with, but I have some theories as to how things went down that night that maybe _you've_ not thought of. Come to my house and I'll tell you."

"Alright."

We went to my apartment, and I guided them inside. I saw they were looking around curiously, mostly because they'd never been there, even as I fetched my alchemy things. "It's like this," I began, laying out a few papers. "You said when you initially tried to transmute your mother, it took just your leg and took all of Al's body." I directed this at Edward. He looked a bit guilty at that. "You said you went to this Truth place, where it took an equivalence for whatever you tried to do. Why did it only take _your_ leg and _Al's_ entire body? That doesn't seem very equal, does it? And you both were in an equal amount."

"Actually, Al was into it less than I was," Ed pointed out cautiously, darting a glance at Alphonse. "I persuaded him. But, you're right. Between the two of us, we should have lost an equal amount."

"I think, in a roundabout way, you both lost out equally. You wanted your mom. He's the last piece other than your own blood that _is_ a piece of your mom." I pointed at Alphonse. Both brothers looked curious at that.

"That's a fair point," Alphonse considered.

"And then, after that, you sacrificed _just your arm_ to get his soul back?"

"Yeah?" Ed mused, probably trying to figure out how things were going.

"I don't think you actually _did_ get his soul back."

"What?!"

"Of course I did!" Both sounded horrified.

"Would you listen?! There's _no way_ you could have paid _just an arm_ to get his soul if it took your _leg_ and his _body_ to _fail_ getting your mom back. And I've got another thought about that, but let's stick with this for the moment." Both were looking suitably horrified. "This is only theory, but what if you paid an arm to essentially tie spiritual _strings_ from his soul onto the armor? You didn't get him back, but you've tied him to this world in some oddball effort to keep him here?"

"That doesn't even make _sense_ ," he complained.

"Just look at the rentanjutsu, Ed. This stuff talks about stuff that I've never _seen_ in our alchemy and this is just a _sampling_. The circle you used to seal Al to the armor is unlike any Amestrian alchemy I've ever seen. What if you in desperation did something that wasn't even proper Amestrian alchemy?"

He paused and took a long look at his brother. Then he looked at the papers I had put on the table. "What's your theory about our mom?" he asked. I paused to gather my thoughts.

"What if you could have never revived her?" I offered. I saw his constipated look at that. "If you think about it, life and death are two sides of the same coin. I know this gets a bit spiritual, so bear with me. For the most part, there's a really good reason someone has died. Old age, illness, a dangerous wound… Even just the heart stopping for no apparent reason. But, under certain circumstances, you can revive the dead so long as it's been within a few minutes."

"Are you saying I died that night?" Alphonse asked suddenly. I hadn't thought of that.

"Maybe?" I hedged, noting Ed's sick look. "But, what I was trying to get at is this: no one has successfully resuscitated a person after a quarter of an hour. By that point, the delicate tissues have already started dying due to a lack of oxygen." I looked back at Edward. "But what if being so long gone, she never had a chance of coming back? Much less to a body that was most certainly not hers to _begin_ with."

"So, what do you think we created that night, then?" asked Edward softly.

"I don't know. But I can almost guarantee that it wasn't your mom. Not when she had exited life years before. And there was a good chance that she wouldn't have been able to come back to life as her old self. Even if you'd been able to find her exact soul, she would have never likely been the same person." His hands were clenching before him as silence descended between us. I drew a breath before continuing.

"What I think also is that you can technically get your arm back at any time," I told him. Al shifted straight upright.

"How?!"

"However, I know it won't be a method you would implement," I said then. "Not at the cost of the very thing you used to _buy_ with it." I looked pointedly at Alphonse. "It makes sense that if his arm equals your ability to interact with the world _through_ the armor, reversing the equation would restore his limb." Alphonse stared, mute with horror.

"I'd never do that!" snarled Edward.

"I know. I'm putting out there ideas that you might be able to _build_ off of." He paused at that. "The whole point of your quest is to heal the _both_ of you, Ed. But, since you didn't actually _buy_ his soul with your arm, whenever you figure out how to bring his body back, you could get your arm back by cutting the strings, so to speak."

"That's a great idea," Alphonse considered. "I mean, it doesn't restore his leg, but it would be better than nothing, right?"

"I won't do it _now_ ," hissed Ed.

"Of course not, Brother! But we have a way to heal _you_ even only partially!" I nodded in agreement.

Edward sat there for a moment, considering his automail limb that was currently exposed and ungloved. Here recently, he'd taken to wearing coverings and, while he did say it was for cleanliness, I wondered if it had something to do with the stigma of being a child with an obvious disability. He already wore thick-soled boots, I suspected, not so much for the height they provided but to somewhat conceal how heavy he sometimes stepped with his left foot. His golden eyes considered the metal before looking to Alphonse just as speculatively. I sat quietly, allowing him to think. Alphonse was also quietly allowing for it.

"You have a point, Dawn," he mused, looking at me. "If an equation works forwards, it has to work backwards, too. And I don't care so much about the arm or my leg, but… the fact that we can figure out something to reverse what I'd done…"

"What _we'd_ done. Regardless of you encouraging me, Brother," Alphonse said seriously in that high-pitched tone, "we both did that thing together." He sighed. It was strange to hear someone who didn't breathe sigh. "But it doesn't bring us all that much closer to healing me so we can help _you_."

I nodded. "Which is why you're using the military. Believe me when I say Dad definitely encourages that." Edward grunted, glancing about us again. "Now, what do you two say to possibly trying to find out some more about Xingese alchemy?" I lifted one of the pages I'd sketched out a simple five-pointed transmutation circle. "Maybe the answer isn't here, but _there_."

"What if it is proprietary information?" Ed asked.

"There's got to be books over there for sale," I encouraged. "All we have to do is order some books from a caravan and get them when they come back."

The two brothers looked at each other, curiosity and enthusiasm mounting.

"Let's do this!" Alphonse encouraged.

"Yeah, let's do this!" Ed grinned.

.

Several hours later, Dad came home and found us still theorizing and dissecting the book that I'd gotten from the boys' father years ago. The first thing was how the two differed. It was obvious that the five-pointed circle was their base circle and that anything after that had to be built _off_ of that, but how did it differ from alchemy here?

"What are you three doing?" Dad asked, eyeballing us all sitting around the coffee table as he came in. I paused in my perusal of philosophies even as Edward looked up.

"Welcome home, Dad," I greeted. "I hope you don't mind I invited them over."

"No, I don't," he mused.

"Good evening, Colonel Mustang," Alphonse greeted even as Ed frowned slightly.

"Good evening, Alphonse," smiled my father. "Are you and your brother staying for dinner?"

"I'd rather not intrude."

"It's fine. It's not like it costs me any different you eating here or at Sarah's." He paused. "If you want to, Dawn, you can call your grandmother and see if she wants to come over for dinner."

"What do you mean, 'it costs the same'?" demanded Edward suddenly. I glanced at the suspicious boy.

"It means that I've been supplementing Sarah with money to ensure you don't eat all her food," Dad told him bluntly, smirking at the surprise on Ed's face. I internally groaned.

"You have, sir?" queried Alphonse. Dad nodded as he shouldered off his uniform jacket.

"She fights me over it, but I don't listen to her," he waved off. At that, I allowed myself to snicker slightly. "I have enough money thanks to my job that I could do so a few times over." Edward was still silent. "Xiao-Hua, please go start on dinner while I get changed. And call your grandmother."

"Yes, Dad!"

Dinner was relatively simple, and I mainly focused on filling foods so that Edward didn't have to worry about his ever-emptying stomach growling in the next few hours. Grandma had declined coming over, taking a chance to have a quiet evening. I enjoyed the generally amiable atmosphere.

"Why don't you act like this all the time?" Ed half-demanded of my father.

"I beg your pardon?" Dad wondered.

"You've not once insulted me this evening. Why don't you do that at the military campus?"

"Brother!" chided Alphonse. "That's rude!"

"I leave work _at_ work," Dad told him, disregarding Alphonse's horror. "Unless you _want_ me to fight with you?" Edward's gaze turned mulish.

" _No_ ," he muttered sourly. I snickered into my dinner, earning a flick at my ear.

"Dad!"

"Behave," he commanded. He looked at Edward. "You've got too much of an independent streak, Fullmetal. Part of the reason I do what I do to you is to keep your ire focused on _me_ rather than have you cause trouble for others." Edward's gaze turned surprised at that. "Besides, I know how spirited children are…" He gave me a long look, encouraging my cheeks to turn warm. "…and I'd much rather you disrespect _me_ over someone that can make your life truly miserable."

I'd told him this, of course, but apparently Ed didn't believe it until it came from – _hah_ – the 'horse's mouth'. Edward looked down at his plate.

"Just don't do anything foolish before those that won't keep their mouths shut," Dad advised. "That's all I ask. I don't want you to lose your chance at helping yourselves with the military's resources." There was a long moment of silence before Edward looked up again.

"Mustang," he said soberly, "Do you know of anyone that practices Xingese alchemy in Amestris?" Dad blinked in the change of conversation.

"No," he mused speculatively. "Not offhand. Why do you ask?"

"Dawn showed us some stuff out of our dad's journal," Alphonse told him. "It's called 'rentanjutsu' according to his notes, but there's not enough information to make a really good effort to learn it. We were curious if you knew of any hidden resources of alchemy here in Amestris that might allow us to learn Xingese alchemy."

"Your father knew this different alchemy?" wondered Dad. "Hm. Interesting. Well, I can certainly look into some information, pull some favors. I could even have Hughes check the records in Central to see if there's someone in their records that uses this… What did you call it?"

"Rentanjutsu," I informed. He nodded.

"You've not tried it, have you?"

"Everyone knows you don't start a story in the _middle_ of a book, Dad," I said, rolling my eyes. He looked amused at my rebuttal. "Still, the things hinted at seem to be _way_ more advanced medically speaking. I'd like to learn so I can help heal." He nodded again, glancing over to the boys.

"Then I can see if there's any information to be had. If not, perhaps you could see about finding someone that deals with Xingese imports. If they have something useful, it would go a long way to expanding our own knowledge here, too." He ate a little before adding, "And I'd like to see what you have."

"Of course!" I agreed immediately, Alphonse also nodding, even though Ed frowned slightly.

.

I noticed how Edward was acting a little odd. Well, a little odder than usual. "What's wrong?" I asked once Al was out of earshot as he went on to look at some of the shelves. He wrinkled his nose at me, which was kind of funny looking and I replicated the expression right back. It was a few days later and, honestly, I didn't get was wrong with him.

"Your dad."

"What did he say?" I asked curiously.

"Nothing." He looked back to his book. I blinked at this response.

"Ed, what's wrong?" His hand clenched as he glared at the unoffending pages. "Ed?"

"It's not fair," he bit out. I felt my eyebrows rise. "It's not _fair_ he sticks around when my asshole of a father never came _back_. They're both _jerks_ , so… What made Mustang stick around when my father _didn't_?" I was actually taken aback by the question. Edward looked at me and absorbed my look. Then he looked back down at his book. "Never mind."

I stared at him before starting slightly as Alphonse returned. "I found a few more books that might help our research," he offered, setting them down. He then apparently caught the mood. "What happened?" I looked to Edward.

"Ed, I don't know," I told him, aching a little. "I… I told him he should go home. I don't know why he didn't. And, honestly, there are days that I… that I think Dad shouldn't have kept me." He looked at me in surprise.

"What's going on?" asked Alphonse again.

"Ed asked why my dad stuck around while yours didn't," I admitted a bit bluntly. Edward looked a bit guilty. "The bad part is I don't have a good reason as to why my dad stayed around. Maybe, he just felt he had to be there for me at first as he had a hand in my creation. He _was_ just a kid himself at the time, you know." I looked at him imploringly, reaching out to hold his unyielding metal hand. He looked up. It was probably extremely forward, but I think he needed the contact even if he couldn't feel it. "I don't know why your dad didn't stay. Or even come back."

I didn't want to tell him my suspicion, that it wasn't them that he loved. That he had only loved their mother. Some people were like that, or so I guessed. Emotions were complicated and each person reacted to the chemical reactions in their bodies differently.

I withdrew my hand. "I know Dad can't be _your_ dad. Not even a little so long as you're in the military, but… can you accept him as someone who won't turn his back on you?" He stared at me silently before abruptly shoving up and walking away. I looked to Alphonse in confusion.

"Let him go," Al encouraged. "If he doesn't come back soon, we'll go look for him. Sometimes Brother can't process easily enough."

"Oh. I didn't know." He nodded, armor faintly rasping.

"It's okay. Dad's a hard subject for him."

"I understand that," I murmured.

Eventually, Edward did come back, but he didn't speak further on the subject nor did he try to broach any kind of possibly related one.

I did notice, though, that Ed seemed to feel a little better.

.

Despite the crappiness of day-to-day school, I was flourishing outside it. Edward and Alphonse hadn't yet managed to procure Xingese alchemy books, not having any luck in some of the markets that occasionally popped up to sell objects from the Far East. The men who ran these markets didn't have any, or so they said, despite the fact that they were interested in selling various other things from silk textiles to paper umbrellas to rugs of amazing quality. I procured a few scrolls to see if I could translate, though they were supposedly just poetry, on these excursions. Edward thought I was being foolish, but Alphonse noted that if I became educated enough in the language, I could prove very useful when it came to translating rentanjutsu books.

I had gotten a few other things as well, including a few different teas, and a few other spices that were useful in cooking. "I don't see why you don't just put in an order," I told Edward. He had come back with a disgusted look as I bit into the prune I'd purchased as fresh produce certainly didn't do well with the desert heat.

"I tried," he groused, glancing around. "Apparently, there isn't a great draw for them. I tried to offer incentive to pay well enough if they did bring them, but none of them _wanted_ to." I looked to a nearby merchant who I had gotten the prunes from. Unfortunately for me, the old woman didn't seem to be very up-and-up with Amestrian, so I wasn't too certain about asking _her_. Despite my obvious Xingese heritage, there was a sort of clannishness that excluded me as firmly as it excluded the boys.

"That sucks," I groused. "Maybe we can talk with some of the other vendors. Prune?" I held one out and watched him make a face at the dried fruit. "It's good."

"You eat weird things, Dawn."

"You are a very mean person, Edward."

"You two are terrible," sighed Alphonse. "Come on. Let's ask around."

Several hours later, I was hot and tired. Ed wasn't that much better. We had met a few interested parties willing to barter with us, for some reason warming up to Edward because he was something they called a 'kin-hito', but they weren't very forthcoming on whether or not they could actually get the texts in question.

Edward still had to ask, though. "What does that mean?" he asked one fairly well-spoken merchant. "What is a 'kin-hito'?" The man looked surprised.

"It translates to a golden person," he told him in accented Amestrian. "According to our culture, it is said that a golden person is…" He paused, hummed thoughtfully. "There are multiple ways of saying it. ' _Hito_ ' obviously means 'person'. ' _Kin_ ' means 'gold'."

"Right…?" Ed mused thoughtfully.

"The full saying is ' _kin no hito wa shin no hitodesu_ '. A gold person is a true person'. It is a way of saying a person of your coloring is indicative of you being an _immortal_ person."

"That's ridiculous. I'm not immortal," Ed immediately brushed off.

"But it is directly tied to the legend of the Sage of the West."

"Sage of the West?" questioned Alphonse. The man nodded.

"Yes. We called him ' _Nishi no Sēji_ ', but he was said to be golden of hair and eyes like you. He taught us how to use rentanjutsu, stop the Emperor and his family from drinking _suigin_ , a dangerous liquid silver metal I do not know the name of in your language, they believed would extend their lives." I realized what he meant.

"Mercury," I realized, garnering a glance of surprise. "A liquid silver metal? Mercury. Or gallium, but… I would bet it is mercury." The man hummed as Ed gained an incredulous look.

"Why would anyone think that would _help_ you live longer?"

"Brother!" chastised Alphonse. "They probably didn't know back then!"

"I'm sorry," I prompted as Ed gained a mulish look. "Go on?" The man nodded.

" _Rentanjutsu_ was not so refined as it is now," advised the merchant thoughtfully. "It was dependent on _kusuri_ , magic liquids made of bits and pieces of various things. But when _Nishi no Sēji_ came to Xing, he taught us new methods of healing and stopped the practice of drinking _suigin_. It has become a new art, more powerful than the original art. It has the same name to remind us of the origin of our people and to caution them against being foolish."

"So, is there any way we can learn some of this art?" I asked hopefully. "We can't find any books on rentanjutsu here in Amestris, and I'd love to learn how to help heal. I want to be a doctor in the future. Well, an _animal_ doctor more than a _human_ doctor."

"Such can be done with _rentanjutsu_ ," he agreed with a wry smile. "I do not know much of the art, though. Merely the history and the importance of it in Xing. I could try to obtain books for you, I suppose. But they are not simple."

"I can figure it out," I assured him. "Can you get us some?"

"Yes. Let us discuss how much you wish to pay per book now, hm? So I can know how much to buy."

Edward's grin turned _wolfish_ at the offering. "Let's start at fifteen hundred sens per book," he suggested. "And a transport fee of five hundred per book." The man looked amused. "I want a lot. Starting with a good variety of beginner books that won't be as expensive and some of the moderate texts focused on general practice and specialized healing. After we get those, we'll see about buying more. You can get steady business from us on this."

"Well, then, young one. Let us start the negotiation. And, while we talk, would you be willing to buy some other wares?" He gestured to the spread near him.

.

"If this works out, this is going to be _amazing_ ," Ed exulted hours later as we left the market. "An honest, solid lead."

"And perhaps there's stuff in our alchemy that might provide us with the ability to blend the two," I mused as the blonde boy practically skipped. Alphonse, who would undoubtedly rattle if he _did_ skip, pointedly didn't do what his brother was almost doing. I was grinning at Ed's exuberance.

"Maybe the path to recovery is in _this_ direction!" Alphonse encouraged. "Maybe we won't have to worry about a Philosopher's Stone!"

"What's this?" I asked, surprised.

"Brother read about a thing called a Philosopher's Stone. It's supposed to negate the cost required for transmutation."

"We may still have to use it," Ed noted wryly. "If only to ensure that nothing goes wrong."

"Wait, are you talking about some magic fix-all?" I asked, incredulous. Something about this sounded fishy and not _just_ because I subscribed to the phrase 'if something is too good to be true, it usually was'.

"Not _magic_ , Dawn," griped Ed, shooting me a pout. "Hold on. I've got the info written down about it and I'll show it to you." I frowned thoughtfully. "It's definitely _not_ magic."

"But you're describing it as a 'fix-all'," I pointed out. "There is no such thing."

"Okay, Negative Nellie," groaned Edward.

"Brother, be nice. You know as well as I do that it is kind of farfetched!" chided Alphonse. "If it's real, it's rare enough that it's considered a prize possession. Anything that can negate the need for equivalent exchange is _powerful_. And therefore it will be _protected_."

"Which is why we need to figure out how to make it ourselves!"

Right as I was about to speak, I felt a light brush. I turned just in time to see someone hurry past in long strides. Instantly, panic surged and my hand fled to my jacket pocket. "Guys! He stole my wallet!" I cried. The person immediately broke into a run at my words. Just as immediately, both boys wheeled around to chase him. I ran after, slower than they were, because I really didn't want to be left behind even as they got ahead of me. Chasing them around a corner, I caught sight of Ed's coat turning into an alley and hoped they hadn't got too far away.

When I arrived, I got a surprise. Ed had my wallet in my hand and Alphonse had the thief in a headlock. Said thief glared with red eyes from where he dangled in Al's arms as he tried to find purchase on the large steel arms.

"Check if everything's there," Ed told me, tossing me my wallet. I looked and, sure enough, all my money seemed to be present as was my identification and the pictures I had of my family members.

"It's there. Why did you steal it?" I demanded of him even as the red eyes registered. "You're Ishvalan!" Indeed he was. Red eyes, light blonde hair, and tanned skin… All indicators of Ishvalan heritage.

"So what if I am, Ammy?!" he spat. "Let me go!" I felt like I'd been slapped.

"That's downright rude," Alphonse chided. "We could hand you over to the police for stealing, you know." The young man's lip curled further.

"Man, my first true encounter with an Ishvalan and I can't see why Uncle Urey and Aunt Sara wanted to go help them," Edward groused. The Ishvalan spat towards him. Edward made a face, frowning at the spot on the pavement. "Yeah…"

"Hope they died, stupid Ammys!" Edward's gaze snapped up as Al froze.

"They did, you asshole," Ed said coldly, "while healing your brethren." The young man sneered. "The Rockbells. Ever hear of them?" The sneer froze. "Yeah. Guess not. If you hate Ammys, then you've never met them." He looked at me. "What do you want to do? It's your wallet he stole." I was silent for a long moment, staring at the captive.

"Why did you steal from me?" I asked. Ed frowned as Al shifted. The man looked a little uncertain now, still hanging from Al's grasp.

"Why does it matter?" he groused bitterly.

"Why did you? I want to know." Edward wasn't looking too happy now.

"To get food. What else?" He snorted. "You don't know what it's like to be _Ishvalan_. Forced to hide, eat scraps passed over by people who think they're your betters… You looked so arrogant and dressed so nice, I knew you'd have money."

I didn't think I looked arrogant.

"If you actually knew Dawn, you'd know she's this little timid thing that barely has a spine," Ed grinned, amused. He then gave me a long look. "You're going to be a bleeding heart, aren't you?" I shot him a guilty look.

"I don't go hungry," I told him. "I've been very lucky that I've always had everything I've needed. Let him go, Al." I dug the money out of the wallet as Alphonse, at my request, let the Ishvalan go.

" _Dawn_ , he's a _criminal_."

"Ed… There's always someone in a worse position." I handed out the money to the surprised Ishvalan. "Take it. It isn't much, but…" He stared at the money in shock. "…if you use it right, I'm sure you can get some chickens or something to give you food for longer."

He gave me a long, assessing look. "Why? Are you pitying me?"

"No," I assured, thinking to my father. "I just know that not every Amestrian wanted to hurt Ishvalans. My dad is one of them." He gave me an incredulous look as he carefully took the money.

"Who is your dad?"

"Someone you hate," I assured with a sad smile. "Come on, guys." Edward rolled his eyes as the man retreated.

"I hadn't realized how much distrust developed between Amestris and Ishval," mused Alphonse as the fellow vanished from sight around a corner.

"Are you surprised?" I wondered. "After all, Amestris incorporated their territory, allowed them to be part of this country, and for no discernable reason turned on them. The bad part is that there are those that actually enjoyed the destruction out there. Dad told me about this one person named Kimblee that _delighted_ in killing people. There were a few others, but Dad thinks he enjoyed it the most…" I walked from the alleyway, Alphonse and Edward coming after me. "But most, like Dad, didn't understand 'why' even if they were forced to fight. If there was a clear reason, even if it was a bunch of smaller ones that became a big one, perhaps it would be more understandable. Or if there was a use for that land beyond the Ishvalans living on it. After all, no one _else_ wanted it. But all that happened was a meaningless war where people died for no really decent reason."

"You learned all of that from the Colonel?" Alphonse asked, and I nodded.

"He has nightmares," I told them sadly, earning a surprised noise from the armor. "Him and Aunt Riza and Uncle Maes… There are others, like Mr. Armstrong. Most went into the desert and… then left a piece of themselves there."

"That's sick," Ed sighed as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You're not supposed to _humanize_ him, Dawn."

"Why not? He _is_ human." He gave me a pout as we continued back the way we came.

"I think Brother just doesn't like it when someone proves that your dad might be a nice person who has been forced to not be as nice because of life, Dawn," Alphonse pointed out.

"True," I mused.

"But, really. If there was no real reason for it, why _did_ the government authorize the extermination of Ishval?" Ed wondered. We pondered this until another questionable incident came to my mind.

"Probably the same kind of reasoning that allowed the government to completely contradict its own rules and take a twelve-year-old on as a State Alchemist," I pointed out. "Wasn't it Bradley that made the decision?" I whispered to him, afraid of being found out for speaking poorly of the man.

"Yeah," Ed mused. "And it was likely Bradley that made the decision to wipe out Ishval, too," he mused. He looked at us then. "That's crappy."

"It is," agreed Alphonse.

"It is," I also said. I glanced over my shoulder, not seeing the Ishvalan. Then, I looked forward and hummed thoughtfully. "But, on the other hand, we will be getting rentanjutsu books in the near future, right?" There was an extended pause before the mood lightened considerably.

"Right!"

.

"This is…" I scanned the dictionary I had, busily translating the Xingese poem I had. "No… That doesn't make sense…" I scanned further, trying to find the word I wanted. "Ah, what is 'bubble snow'?" I muttered, complaining slightly.

"What are you doing?" I winced at the voice, realizing my sanctuary had been casually violated. I was in the library, doing one of my translations after having finished the homework from the morning classes. "What is this? Going back to your roots?" taunted my former friend. There were a few giggles, though when I glanced up, Laura looked a little guilty to be laughing. I turned my attention to Amy, who had spoken.

"No, not really. I'm learning how to translate so that when I get some other books from Xing, I can translate _them_ easier." Admittedly, I would only be learning the written form, not the spoken, but at least there were sound translations available. I had three dictionaries, covering two forms of the writing, but sometimes it was hard to decipher the kind of writing used at times.

"What a nerd," mocked Jackie.

"Yes, I am," I agreed. "Smart is the new black." My smirk and response seemed to throw them slightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked a confused Laura.

"It doesn't matter," I dismissed, returning my gaze to the poem at hand. "So, ' _awa-yuki_ ' means 'bubble snow'… It's kind of poetic, though I don't know what it means. Any ideas?"

"I thought you were smart," Amy accused.

"Yeah, but more for science than poetry. "Maybe it'll make more sense as I translate." I looked up. "So, is there anything else you want, or are you just here to be petty?"

Fury flashed across Amy's face, a frown creased Jackie's, and Laura looked uncomfortable, glancing towards the desk that I, like usual, sat in full view of. "You still think you're _better_ than us!" she sneered.

"I wasn't the one that pissed off the State Alchemist with the impressive lung capacity in a public library," I told her. Her eyes gleamed in nasty delight.

"You swore!" she said triumphantly.

"And?" I asked, nonplussed.

"You're going to get in trouble now. I'm going to tell the librarian!" I gave her a long look before shrugging and turning back to my work.

"Go ahead. I've got stuff to learn."

Amy did go off to tell, taking her friends with her. I sat patiently, waiting for the fallout. When the librarian, Mrs. Underhill, came over, I wasn't surprised to see her distressed look. "Miss Shoemaker said you swore," she told me, the girls hovering behind her.

"I know." She sighed, looking at me over her glasses.

"Miss Mustang, what was the word?"

"Pissed. As in, someone got pretty angry." She frowned, considered my words, and then shook her head.

"And why did you say it?"

"I was advising Amy she was the one that made a friend of mine so angry, he wound up screaming at her in a library because she insulted him, and got us all thrown out."

"What did she say?"

"That Ed couldn't possibly be a State Alchemist. That he was too short to be one." I looked at her with annoyance on my features. "She'd been accusing me of being a liar for a long while, a showoff, and pretty much a pest. I don't really care if you send me to the office, ma'am."

"You should. Being troublesome is bad."

"Being away from them is better. They came in here only to harass _me_." She frowned before turning to the three girls. The fact that she turned fast enough to see the smug smirk on Amy's face was just great.

"I see," she mused, turning back to me. "Well, I'll let this slide _once_ , dear. You've never been a trouble." She smirked softly. "And if they leave soon, I'll give you a treat." I laughed.

"You're not supposed to eat in the _library_ , Mrs. Underhill!"

"True, but this could be our little secret? Just don't get anything on the books." I nodded as she walked away to the trio. I looked down to my poem, feeling great.

"So, that next line…" The three girls, I noted, vacated the library soon after. The cookie I got was delicious.

.

I did tell my Aunt Riza about the latest altercation, namely because I couldn't complain to my actual friends. I also hated dragging Dad into it all the time. Still, I knew it would get back to him even as I spent time with my pseudo-mom-that-I-wished-was- _really_ -my-mom. Many hyphens aside, I showed her my translations of Xingese poetry on another paper, leaving the scrolls undisturbed. "What is bubble snow?" she asked with a laugh, getting to that part. "And three _thousand_ worlds? What an odd concept."

"I double checked it," I shrugged. "I don't know what it means, but it is pretty interesting, isn't it?" She nodded, turning the paper over to me again. "I don't know what to do, Aunt Riza," I sighed. "I am almost to the point I hate going to school. No one there is my friend, I'm younger than all my classmates, I'm a year higher for all those that _are_ my age, and the only people I enjoy spending time with anymore are either over the age of twenty or is more often than not running around the country." She looked at me soberly before drawing me into a hug.

"Your father is afraid you'll decide to go adventuring with the Elrics," she admitted gently. "And he gets enough tales back that he _knows_ they are good at finding trouble." I looked at her in surprise. "He's trying to protect you."

Knowing that my father was the best example of a father between myself, my two male friends, and even what I'd heard from some of my Uncles and Aunts… Yes, some of them had good parents, but Aunt Riza had herself admitted her father wasn't much of a comfort and her mother had died when she was pretty young. Uncle Kain didn't even _have_ a dad for most of his formative years, dying young in an earthmover accident when the walls of the hole he'd been working in had collapsed on him. It had forced Uncle Kain to become the 'man' of the family, going to work to help his mother make ends meet. Uncle Vato didn't even have himself as a good representation simply because he'd been forcibly excluded from his children's lives by his ex-wife. Everyone else had fairly decent parents, of course. They all agreed, though, that Dad was, while not perfect, a good dad.

"That doesn't change the fact I am coming to abhor going to that… that _place_ ," I snorted.

"Good word usage, but I don't think your father feels that way." I sighed and was soon released from my hug. I hadn't told anyone about how the Ishvalan had stolen money from me, or how I'd given it to him after he'd been caught, but it came to my mind again. Here I was, put out about being forced to go to school. What did he have growing up? Learning in some alleyway with his family? Did he even _have_ family?

"I know," I grumbled. "But… It's not like I'd have to go off _with_ them."

"And what would you do if you didn't go to school if you didn't go with them?" she questioned. I didn't have an answer for that.

"I don't know. Study more alchemy?"

"The world doesn't revolve around alchemy, Dawn, despite what you and the Elrics may think." I blinked.

"Dad isn't included in that list?" I wondered. Her eyes sparkled with humor.

"No," she laughed. "He's got to think about politics and paperwork." I snickered.

"Sounds _exhilarating_."

"Oh, it _is_. You should see me harassing him all day over the piles of papers on his desk. He never seems to get ahead, even if only in actuality and not in show," she complained lightly. "But, speaking of alchemy, how does the research go?"

"For?"

"Helping the boys. I know you're doing so." I hummed.

"Well, the books haven't come in yet. That's supposed to be two weeks from now. And we think there will be a lot of information in them. Even if it's only basic information at first. We hope that there's a way to ease off the amount of payment they have to make. They're talking about this thing called a _Philosopher's Stone_ , but… I don't think that would be the right way to go."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Aunt Riza, when someone says something is 'free', I start looking for the hidden costs. What would using a Stone _cost_ to _use_?"

-/-/-/-

Thanks for reading. **Please review.**


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